Magic
by Christie Redfield
Summary: Co-Authored with David Wesker. Pre-Breakdown. Something strange is brewing in the Bayou but is it voodoo or something else? Pete and Myka are sent to investigate on what is likely to be one of the most bizarre cases yet for them in New Orleans.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Warehouse 13 is © SyFy and the show's creator(s). No copyright infringement is intended whatsoever nor is any profit being made from this fanfic; i.e. it is purely non-profit.

Claimer: The only thing David or myself own is this story, nothing more nothing less.

Spoilers: Duped, Burnout, Magnetism.

Feedback: Love it, live for it, cherish it. Any and all feedback directed to myself or David, should be sent via Review.

Category: Supernatural/Humor

Time Setting: Pre-Breakdown. I hunted all over the Net for as to when any of the events in the show took place, and the only thing I could ascertain was that Pete and Myka have been both working at the Warehouse for about 6 months come the events of Breakdown. Mardi Gras can take place during February or March depending on when Ash Wednesday falls or something to that effect from what I read online. But anyways, if I had to say what month that this Fic takes place I'd say either February or March, again if any actual dates were used in the show disregard them.

Rating: T – Mild language and violence.

Author(s) Notes:

David: We tried to keep the spirit of the show and I hope we succeeded. That and it was fun to write.

Christie: Like Dave, we were aiming for an episode like feel here, but also trying to keep the spirit of the show intact; hands down this was a blast to write, and I hope you all enjoy what we've written. Definitely be up for doing this again. :) Also for those of you that are curious, the Artifact in question featured in the Fic itself does not exist, and it's just something we came up with specifically for this story.

Summary: Pre-Breakdown. Something strange is brewing in the Bayou but is it voodoo or something else? Pete and Myka are sent to investigate on what is likely to be one of the most bizarre cases yet for them in New Orleans.

**Magic**

By Christie Redfield & David Wesker

***

Pete is sitting back on his bed, the sunlight streaming in through his window. He is dressed in slacks and a polo, ready to start the day. As soon as he gets to the next level. A silver portable game system rests in his hands as he electronically battles alien bugs as a space marine.

"Whoa-ho! Take that you jive drone turkey!" he chuckles heartily as his foe is beaten.

There was not much to do around this town, so this was probably the most fun thing that he had done since leaving D.C. Or beating his mirror-self in a four hour ping-pong tournament. Unfortunately, Lewis Carroll's mirror had been moved into the Dark Vault. Shame too. It had some interesting perks.

A sharp knocking interrupted his early morning reverie and a voice called from outside the door.

"Hey Pete you decent? Artie wants to see us ASAP after Breakfast."

The voice belonged to Myka Bering, his partner and fellow Warehouse Agent. Where areas Pete was laid back, Myka was a bit more tightly wound, no-nonsense. Either way the pair managed to get the job done, no matter how mismatched they appeared to others.

"Only when I have to be," said Pete as he continued playing his game.

Myka was always such a clock-watcher. He could never understand why. Life wasn't on a schedule. Things happened when they happened. No rhyme, no reason. That is just the way it is. He preferred to just roll with the punches. So far, his gut instinct had kept him out of trouble. Well, a lot of trouble.

"Be right out. Have to find a save point." Pete called out.

"A Save What?" She remarked calling out, rolling her eyes at his earlier reply.

"Hang on," said Pete, his teeth gritted.

He nearly rolled off the bed as he made an effort to beat out another adversary. Luck was with him, however, and he made it to a save point. He saved.

"Hoo! Yeah!" exclaimed Pete. "Go me! Go me!"

Turning the portable console off, Pete set it on his nightstand and walked to the door of his room. Opening it, he saw Myka leaning against the opposite wall, arms folded across her chest. She was dressed in slacks and a long sleeved t-shirt. Her neck was kind of scrunched which meant she was peeved at him. Again. Pete gave her a winning smile anyway.

"Good morning, Myka," he started. "What a great day, huh? Sleep well?"

He walked off down the hallway towards the stairs. He could smell breakfast cooking.

Myka shook her head at Pete and trailed behind him down the stairs. "I fell asleep listening to God only knows what it is Claudia blared at 3 AM, and from your end what sounded like Van Halen."

Myka suddenly wondered if Leena had ever considered sound proofing the walls of the B&B, it couldn't hurt for business. Then again she didn't seem to recall seeing any other patrons entering or leaving the establishment. Of course Leena herself was hard to read, the woman was psychic she was positive.

If such a thing was possible.

Pete had been humming the tune to 'Panama' by Van Halen as he descended the stairs. When he hit the bottom he turned with a slightly puzzled look on his face and looked at Myka.

"You say something or was that my stomach growling?"

Myka stared at Pete dumbfounded and stomped past him down the stairs.

"You're impossible, I swear it. Why do I try?" She added throwing a hand up in the air as if to emphasize her point.

"Definitely NOT a morning person," said Pete to himself.

Shrugging, he followed her into the dining area.

Claudia at that moment hopped down the steps behind Pete. Her bangs were currently a shade of dark teal green.

"Whoa, not even daybreak yet, and she's already mad at you." Before Pete could offer a reply Claudia's face lit up and she zipped past him. "Hey pancakes!"

The trio sat down and ate breakfast, which led to a debate of Roth vs. Hagar between Claudia and Pete. By the time they had gotten to their coffees Artie soon arrived, and with him bearing their next assignment. Anything of which around here was of the 'norm'.

Their current assignment, was apparently taking them to New Orleans, Louisiana. They had no idea what they were looking for.

"Naturally," Myka figured.

What they did know that was there was definitely something weird going down in the Bayou, and people were winding up missing during the night. Normally alcohol was to blame right? Nope, gotta be Voodoo. In croc country no less.

"Yep this job never got dull," Myka mused to herself.

"Cool!" said Pete, grinning. "Always wanted to go there. The music, the history, the food and Mardi Gras!" The final part being echoed by Claudia.

Pete and Claudia high-fived as Artie stared at them blankly.

"Just...find the artifact," Artie said at last. "Be safe."

Artie left with his bag and Pete went back to another helping of Leena's pancakes.

"We're going there to find an artifact, not party Pete." Myka remarked sternly as she took a sip of her coffee. Her own stack of pancakes set nearby, relatively untouched and rather boring looking for the most part, Myka opting not to use syrup or even powdered sugar for that matter, and only butter. Though every bit part of the anti sugar crusade, Pete was wholly convinced she snuck a packet into her coffee every now and again, provided no one was looking.

One hand perched under her chin she glanced down at the documents on the table before her and continued to flip through the folder that Artie had given her and Pete to familiarize themselves with in regards to their search. The information itself was scant giving them a vague idea of what to be looking for as most often tended to be the case sadly. Still irregardless Myka felt all the more comfortable in familiarizing herself with the material however little the amount of information available.

"Don't be such a dud, Myka," said Pete between bites. "It's not always about 'partying'. Learning about the environment, getting its vibe, is essential. I like to get the feel of a place. Helps me to know when things aren't right."

"Bring me back a t-shirt," said Claudia. "And some beads!"

"God help me, I'm surrounded by children." Myka remarked holding a hand to her forehead.

She closed up her folder and stood up from the table having had finished her coffee and breakfast. "I'm going to go upstairs and pack, c'mon Pete hustle!"

Those words said, she made her way to the stairs and marched upward. She'd never be able to figure out how someone like Pete wound up in the Secret Service. Still she had to admit he was dedicated to his job.

Pete and Claudia rolled their eyes as Myka walked off and then chuckled. Pete finished his breakfast and grabbed his plate, which Leena promptly took from him.

"Go on, hurry up" she said. "Myka is wound up at the moment."

"Thanks Leena," said Pete as he headed for the stairs.

Pete often wondered how Myka made it into the Secret Service. She seemed so high-strung and ready to pop a mainspring at any moment. The stress of being a government agent seemed like it would be too much for someone like that. Still, she had an eye for detail and seemed to have survived the job so far.

Pete popped into his room quickly and picked up his go-bag. It was a pre-packed bag he used for the quick trips associated with the Warehouse. Slipping his credentials, badge and holstered SIG 229 onto his belt, Pete secured it before taking his bag down to the car. There he waited for Myka.

Myka had taken the effort to have pre-packed bags, call it a touch OCD but it worked for her. She clipped her badge to her belt, then followed up with her SIG 229 which she checked before she holstered.

After Denver, she couldn't help but be ever more cautious, it wasn't an incident she wanted repeated, to this day the memories of what had happened still rocked her to the core. She quickly decided to not dwell on the subject any further, they had a case, she had to focus. Double checking her bag over, Myka ducked outside into the driveway where Pete awaited.

She managed a smile. "Ready?"

Pete smiled, "Ready for the Big Easy!"

He was not overly thrilled about going to New Orleans on a mission, but it would give him a chance to see some sights. He also was not overjoyed about going there with Myka. She was cool, but could be such a wet blanket at times. Always sweating the details. He would have to make an effort to loosen her up a bit while they were down there.

They walked to the car and Myka put her bag in the trunk next to Pete's. Getting in the car, they headed for Sioux Falls International Airport.

***


	2. Chapter 2

***

Nearly 7 hours later, the pair found themselves in New Orleans. Evening was just starting to set in as both Agents emerged from their rented SUV, tired and exhausted the evening air alive with the sound of buzzing and chirping insects, the sun just starting to set. The flight itself had taken nearly twice as long as originally planned, the only flights having been available consisted of interconnecting flights on account of Mardi gras weekend.

"Okay remind me again what the game plan is?" Myka asked as she went around back to retrieve her bag, Pete following close behind.

Pete took off his sunglasses and looked around at New Orleans. The place definitely had energy. Way different than D.C. or New York. It was alive but without that mindless, relentless driving force of the others. Pete could not help but smile.

"Plan?" he said. "That is your thing, Myka. I'd suggest starting with getting a hotel though."

Myka squinted at the setting sun through her sunglasses. "Good idea, I wonder if we'll even be able to find a place, probably booked by a ton of drunken college freeloaders." She quipped closing the hatch of the SUV.

Swinging the strap of her bag over one shoulder she gestured to a Hotel nearby sitting across the street with a wave of her hand. "Door number one..."

***

Once they had settled in, under the cover of two magazine reporters, Pete dropped his bag in the room. Locking the door, he checked out the room a bit before heading to take a shower. A hot shower would do him well, after the long flight in.

After cleaning up, he got dressed and decided to go and check out the local scene. He thought he saw a cafe around the corner from the hotel when they drove in. That would be a good place to start. Food, environment and a new case. Pete was psyched.

What rooms were available, were few and far between, forcing Pete and Myka to split a room what with Mardi gras in full swing. Either way it wouldn't be the first time. She was grateful that she and Pete hadn't gotten to the point where they drew a chalk line down the room's center. Yet.

Once Pete had showered and changed, Myka used the bathroom to do likewise, the 7 hour flight nearly having done them both in. Finished she stepped out changed and revitalized, finding Pete perched on the edge of one the room's two double beds, flipping through tourism brochures.

"Any ideas where we should start? I saw a cafe close by, maybe we can start there?" Myka suggested.

Pete, his back towards Myka, cringed slightly. He had been hoping to go to the cafe alone. He wanted to immerse himself in the local culture. Myka had a way of disrupting that. Unless that local culture was Washington D.C. or New York. There she was perfect. Turning around slowly, Pete managed to put on a passive face.

"Yeah," said Pete. "The cafe..."

Inwardly, he sighed before setting down the tourism brochures. Going to the door, he opened it and started down the hallway. Already he could hear the light notes of jazz coming from outside.

"What? What I say?" Myka asked dumbfounded, as she trailed behind her partner as he stepped outside into the hallway.

Hitting the street, Pete felt energized once again. The temperature was slightly humid, but tolerable. The lights were on with small insects buzzing about. People walked through the streets, talking and laughing.

Pete made his way, with Myka, towards the cafe that he had seen. The place was crowded but accessible. A local band was playing jazz on a small stage. Pete found a table that had two chairs and sat down. A waiter came over with a menu, placing a pitcher of iced water on the table with two glasses.

Pete took the menu, but did not look at it, instead listening to the band and the people. A young woman was performing on stage, singing. Her voice was strangely hypnotic, seeming to captivate others in her presence, an intricate belt hung from the side of her hip, mostly hidden by a scarf, a flash of light illuminating the chain every so often. Was that a necklace? Perhaps some sort of jewel? Pete wondered as he continued his silent observation of the café and its patrons.

Myka took the menu from Pete's hand with a huff and studied it.

Scrutinizing the menu, Myka studied over the local offerings curiously.

"Cajun, Cajun, and more Cajun. Oh get a load of this; they have Gator Tail on the menu." She chuckled humorlessly, "I don't know who to feel sorrier for, the Gator or the guy doing the deed."

She looked up noticing Pete was not paying attention to her, and she noticed his eyes were watching the room intently. She knew he had that weird vibe thing; a sixth sense most would call it. Pete swore it hadn't failed him since. She leaned towards him and spoke in a low tone.

"Any weird gut feelings?" Myka asked as she let her eyes roam around the room, taking in their surroundings.

"Just hunger," said Pete looking at her. "Anything good on the menu?"

There was a definite feeling of tension, despite the good natured faces and the laughter. Artie warned them about what he had heard was happening. So far, it had been kept off the national scene. Most likely it had been out of wanting not to scare off any tourists. Louisiana had had more than it's share of troubles of late.

Still, for the moment, it was not much more than a basic unease. He smiled at Myka.

"Gator Tail?" Myka replied, her bemused look only intriguing Pete as she passed him the menu.

"Lame as this sounds, I never had Cajun food, the real stuff anyway." Her brow scrunched. "Maybe once, years ago though."

The waitress reappeared then to take their drink orders, Myka settling on Iced Tea.

Pete chose a Dr. Pepper with crushed ice and mint leaves. He asked the waiter for a few more minutes on deciding the dinner selection.

"Hey, this sounds good," said Pete. "Blackened chicken and dirty rice. Or maybe the gumbo?"

Myka gave him the raised eyebrow look.

"Hey, loosen up, Myka!" said Pete. "Soak up the local scene. Relax. Just let the music and atmosphere roll over you."

Myka swatted at a mosquito that had landed on her neck. She did not seem particularly impressed. Pete shook his head.

"Let's go to the library tomorrow and look up the articles on this Miss Evenia," said Pete. "We'll start there and then check in with the local police."

Myka scratched at the spot on her neck where the mosquito had bit her and she glared at Pete. "I am relaxed!"

Absent mindedly she scratched at the bug bite as she studied the menu over before grabbing an ice cube from her ice water to place over the bite earning her a chuckle from Pete. She lowered her tone.

"Despite what you may think I can blend in no problem, thanks."

At least the ice was helping ease the bite pain. The pair glanced up as their waitress reappeared and they ordered their meals. Pete went with the blackened chicken and dirty rice, Myka the gumbo. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes briefly and listened to the music, as she made an attempt to focus.

The meals came some minutes later. The two agents enjoyed the flavorful meals and the music. They ate in relative silence before paying the check and leaving. Outside they walked about close to the hotel for a bit. Pete saw a cart selling shaved ice and got two. One was raspberry and the other coconut.

Pete and Myka ambled about the street until they found an unoccupied bench. Sitting down, Pete set about enjoying his snow cone. It was getting late, but the city showed no signs of stopping. A small band of three men stood down the street from the two agents, occupying a corner. Jazz was the music of the city.

"Like the snow cone?" asked Pete.

Ever vigilant, Myka's eyes scanned their surroundings with a close eye as the pair made their way to the park bench to sit. Normally Myka would have passed on a snow cone given the sugar content, but even she had to admit the cool refreshing treat was a welcoming offer given the humid night air so she decided to take a liberty and humor Pete. She took an appreciative bite of her raspberry snow cone as she sat lost in reverie until Pete spoke to her.

Myka nodded and smiled. "Huh? Yeah thanks."

Taking another bite she looked around the park finding nothing out of the ordinary and sighed. She glanced back at her partner who sat watching her with an amused expression on his face.

"What?"

Pete shook his head and smiled.

"Nothing."

Casually he wiped at his lip with his thumb, and Myka only crinkled her brow in response.

"So I hear raspberry is the new fall shade." He added nonchalantly.

Myka cursed before she quickly wiped at the corner of her mouth only to further smear the raspberry juice on her face prompting a chuckle from Pete.

"Just give me a damned napkin." She remarked finding she had neglected to grab one and reached for a napkin of his own.

Pete handed her the napkin, a smile on his face. This was one of those rare moments when Myka was cool. He felt relaxed for a few moments, enjoying the evening. The sun had gone down and the only glow came from the moon and the neon. People were moving about, doing their normal thing.

Taking a few bites from his snow cone, Pete suddenly froze. His gut churned in that way when he got a bad vibe. He dropped his snow cone, pulling Myka off the bench with him. As they fell forward, a machete buried itself deep into the wooden bench where Myka had just been sitting. Drawing his SIG, Pete yelled out.

"Freeze! Drop the sword!!"

Myka's own weapon was out in the instant that she and Pete hit the pavement, and she quickly stooped to a kneeling position. A man stood over the pair his expression gaunt, a haunting look in his eyes. He only growled in response to Pete's command that he drop his weapon and dove at him in a tackle giving Myka barely time to roll out the way.

She dropped her SIG and immediately went for the last resort, the Tesla, took aim and fired sending loose a spark of electricity.

The electrical arc from the Tesla struck the man full in the chest. Electricity sparked around and through his body, giving him momentary pause. He staggered and dropped the machete but did not stop coming.

Pete, seeing Myka in danger, dispensed with a second verbal warning and aimed his SIG. He fired, striking the man in the leg, just above the knee. The man fell, the leg giving out briefly. Still, he rose again. This time, Pete fired, striking him in the shoulder. The man bucked with the impact, but did not fall. Pete was incredulous.

Aiming his SIG again, Pete started to squeeze the trigger. A jazz tune broke out into the night air as the door to one of the nearby clubs opened. A drunken man stumbled out and began vomiting. The machete-wielding man was gone. Just gone. Pete looked at Myka and she at him. Pete shrugged.

"Okay, that guy was so not normal." Myka remarked as she sat up, the adrenaline still running through her veins on high kick. "What was he high?" She asked as she crawled over to her partner and helped him up.

Glancing over to her side she noticed the machete still laying on the ground and shuddered.

"Call Artie." The two replied in unison.

***


	3. Chapter 3

Pete pulled the Farnsworth from his jacket pocket and opened it. He hit the button and after a few buzzes, Artie's face appeared on the screen.

"What's going on you two?" he asked, eyebrow raised. "You look terrible."

"We just got attacked by a man with a machete!" said Myka.

Artie looked at her and then at Pete. "What?"

"Yeah, Artie," started Pete. "We were sitting on a bench when this guy came from behind with a machete. He almost killed Myka. We hit him with the Tesla and two rounds from my SIG but he didn't stop!"

"So, what happened?" shouted Artie. "Get to the point!"

"He just...disappeared," said Pete with Myka chiming in with him on the last word.

"Odd," said Artie as he disappeared from view for a moment. The rustling of papers could be heard. "Did anything happen before then to cause it?"

"This guy came out and puked?" said Myka, looking at Pete.

"And there was some music," said Pete slowly.

"Music?" said Artie. "Most likely jazz? Let me get back to you. Keep your eyes open!"

With that, Artie signed off on the Farnsworth. Pete closed it and stowed it away in his pocket. Looking at Myka, he put his hand on her shoulder, relieved that she was ok.

"That was way too freaky; my God I almost lost my head!" She shivered involuntarily, suddenly feeling cold. What the Hell were they up against? The last time someone came like that at either of them was when they had that freakish Spine latched onto their back. The same Spine later latched onto Pete nearly costing Myka another partner.

Putting on a brave face she looked back to Pete as she reholstered her SIG, followed by the Tesla. "Let's go back to the Hotel, first thing in the morning we talk to the Authorities."

"With what?" asked Pete as he kneeled near the machete.

He had a small stick in his hand and he was poking about on the ground, moving leaves and looking. He seemed slightly confused. Standing up, he walked back to where he was when he shot the man and thought for a moment. Walking back towards the bench, he shook his head.

"No blood here," he said. "No nothing. We better wait for Artie to contact us before we go off and talk to the police."

Myka nodded, Pete was right, for all they knew they'd wager the man to have been drunk or high. They had nothing to go on. Still...

"Did you see the way the guy looked? It was almost like he was...possessed?" She shook her head as Pete glanced over his shoulder at her.

"You mean like...a zombie?" he remarked, A tinny buzzing noise filled the night air and Pete reached for the Farnsworth.

"What's up Artie?" asked Pete as he answered the Farnsworth.

"I have looked around through some files and found something that might be useful," said Artie as he picked up what looked like an old book. "It may have something to do with a Madame LaRue."

"Who?" asked Pete and Myka.

"Madame LaRue," continued Artie. "Originally I thought this might have something to do with Miss Evenia, but the circumstances are very different surrounding both women and the artifact in question. Anyway, Madame LaRue was a purported practitioner of Louisiana voodoo. Fairly popular at first until the rumors of her raising the dead circulated. There is not much here. It just says that she was hunted down. Sentenced to hang from the neck until dead. She was buried in a small cemetery that isn't used anymore."

"Wow," said Myka. "Is there anything to give us a hint as to the artifact?"

"I don't have any pictures of her," said Artie. "Nothing in these papers yet. I'll get back to you."

"Ok Artie, thanks," said Pete as he closed the Farnsworth. "Geez. Alright, let's go and get some sleep."

Myka nodded as she and Pete exchanged glances, before they began to make their way back in the direction of the Hotel, their senses on the alert for any more surprise attackers. Thankfully they found none and were more than grateful once they had set foot back in the Hotel and their room. Myka pulled out a change of clothes from her bag and ducked into the bathroom to change.

Changed she exited from the bathroom, having settled on a faded light blue shirt three sizes too big for her, and a pair of knee-high grey shorts, hair pulled in a low ponytail. Pete had already changed and lay on the other bed in the room opposite her own bed, lying flat on his stomach a pillow propped under his chin, arm wrapped snugly around it, TV remote in the other hand. Sighing Myka crawled into her own bed and hugged the pillow close to her, willing herself to fall asleep.

She lay still staring blankly at the wall for several minutes, contemplating what had transpired moments earlier in the park. What awaited them next?

Pete lay on his bed and watched television. He flipped through the channels, not finding anything really interesting. He found a program about sports, but it was a week-long tribute to cricket. Pete snorted and flipped the channel. Fishing shows, cooking shows. Nothing interesting. Pausing it on a cooking show, Pete decided to watch that and try and keep his mind off what he had seen earlier.

Pete drifted off to sleep; his dreams were invaded with brain-eating zombies and an apron that liked to make muffins. It was all very bizarre. He was briefly awakened by someone laughing loudly outside and stirred. He saw the TV was still on so he clicked it off via remote and lay back down. The rest of the night was fitful.

Waking up early the next day, Pete showered and changed. Heading downstairs he got two coffees and a bowl of chopped mixed fruit and a few local pastries. He headed upstairs and placed the items on the table before going to wake Myka.

Sleep had not come easy for Myka, her body eventually caving in due to pure exhaustion. Nightmares haunted her, she had dreamt of the case with the Spine, and worse still the time she had spent trapped in Lewis Carroll's mirror. Both instances she had felt helpless, like the incident last night in the park.

How were they going to stop something like whatever it was that possessed that man last night in the park? She groaned tucking herself deeper into the blankets when she heard the door to the room open and Pete entered.

"Hey wakey wakey."

Myka pulled the pillow over her head. "Go away." Sensing he had not left, she cautiously opened an eye. "What could you possibly want from me at this hour of the morning?"

"I have coffee and breakfast," said Pete. "First, we go and talk to the local police. Then, we should hit the library and courthouse to see if we can find anything on this end about Madame LaRue."

Pete moved off back towards the table and took a bite from a pastry. It was good. He felt pretty good this morning. He had a way of compartmentalizing everything. He did not worry about last night because he could not do anything about it. He would do what he could to prevent it now. The best way to do that was to try and find details on Madame LaRue.

"C'mon Myka, up and at 'em," said Pete. "I even got you fruit."

Heaving a sigh, Myka crawled out of bed and snatched up a Danish as she sat down at the table. "Thanks." She mumbled as she munched down on her breakfast. Pete could yank on her last nerve from time to time, but Myka did have to admit he had his moments.

Pete noted her disheveled appearance and darkened eyes as Myka drank her coffee but said nothing, knowing that she had a tendency to get rather personal when something was egging her, and usually trying to talk to her about said thing in particular was rather difficult, as she would almost instantly clam up, throwing on the armor.

Myka took another bite of her breakfast before washing it down with a swig of coffee grateful for the stress outlet. She looked over at Pete and mentally cursed. Aloof he might appear to be, he knew how to read her and he knew about her thing with sugar. Myka raised a finger defensively.

"Don't, it's way too early." She started.

Pete raised his hands in a placating gesture. He knew she was on about something and it was best to just let Myka be Myka until she figured it out.

Sitting in silence, Pete thought over all that had happened last night. That was some weird stuff with that guy. Being with the Secret Service, Pete had dealt with junkies and crazies trying to get at the White House for one reason or another. That guy last night was not either. He looked too far gone and acted way too calmly in his actions. Too purposefully. He intended to kill, but had no hesitation.

It was obvious why too. He was nearly unstoppable. The Tesla did not even faze him. Weird.

Sipping his coffee, Pete gave thought to their mission for the day. He decided the courthouse would be the place to start first. It may have more details on the persecution of Madame LaRue. Well, more accurate details than the newspaper clippings they may find at the library. Maybe. He would still look there.

He looked over at Myka to see how she was doing. She gave him that look and her neck was scrunched, so Pete just looked away and continued drinking his coffee.

Myka silently thanked Pete for not giving her a hard time, usually attempting to talk to her given her current state would result in a verbal sparring match, and she didn't want to go off getting on the wrong foot this early in the morning anyway. He didn't deserve it. Even still that didn't change the fact that what had went down last night in the park scared her, and she definitely wanted to avoid a repeat of past events.

Hopefully they'd be able to turn up some useful information over at the courthouse; otherwise their next best bet would be the library. Finishing the rest of her coffee off it was then that she noticed the time and Myka quickly got up from the table, grabbing a change of clothes as she did before she ducked into the bathroom. 10 minutes later she emerged changed and refreshed.

She smiled at Pete and nodded. "Okay I'm ready."

Pete and Myka took their car to the New Orleans Police Department headquarters building. Pete parked in the visitors lot and he and Myka exited the car. In all honesty, Pete could not recall a particularly good connection he had ever made with local police. He always went in with a positive outlook though. These guys especially had been through quite a bit as of late.

Making their way to the front desk, Pete and Myka showed their credentials.

"Special Agents Pete Latimer and Myka Bering of the Secret Service," said Pete to the officer manning the desk. "We'd like to see the supervising detective of Homicide, please."

The officer stared at them blankly for a few seconds and then picked up the phone. Dialing an extension, she waited with the phone between her shoulder and her ear for a few seconds as she continued with her reports. After a few seconds, Pete heard a voice on the other end of the line. Speaking up, the desk officer replied.

"Two feds here to see Purcell."

Pete heard a voice on the other end of the line again. The officer nodded.

"Right," she hung up the phone. "Third floor. Door 302."

The desk officer went back to her reports with no further interaction with the two agents. Pete shrugged at Myka and headed for the elevator. The pair made their way up to the third floor and then to the specified door. The lettering on the door was fairly straight-forward.

**[Room 302 - HOMICIDE]**

Myka pushed open the door and the two agents walked inside. They were met by Sergeant Kiln Lafayette. He was a laconic individual who spoke no more than three words at a time.

"This way."

Pete and Myka followed Lafayette to the office of one Lieutenant Ilias Purcell, Chief of Detectives, Homicide.

"Sit down," said Purcell with a gesture of his hand towards two chairs. "I'd ask what brings you here, but I frankly don't care. You can talk if you want, but I do not like feds. The NOPD takes care of it's own backyard."

Purcell sat in his chair behind his desk, leaning back. Sergeant Lafayette sat on the corner of Purcell's desk. Pete smiled, remaining optimistic.

"We just came here briefly," said Pete. "We have a case that may involve someone here in the city."

Neither of the police officers responded.

Myka looked at Pete before turning back to Purcell and Lafayette. "We were wondering if you had any unusual murders recently."

Again, no response from the NOPD officers. Pete looked at them, his eyebrow raised for a moment. He waved his hand in front of them, as if to wake them from a trance. He got no response. Pete shrugged, starting to rise.

"Well, nice talking to you guys."

Purcell spoke up, Lafayette rising to stand. "Likewise. I believe you all can find your own way out."

Pete and Myka left the office, Lafayette closing the door sternly behind them. The two agents made their way back out to their car.

"That yielded nothing," said Myka critically. "Come on Pete, let's hit the road."

Pete slipped on his shades and smiled. "Let's do this."

A few minutes later, Pete and Myka were walking the city streets. Pete had a basic map of the city that he had gotten from a local vendor. He also picked up a t-shirt for Claudia. Using the tour map, they made their way to the courthouse first.

It was a decent structure in size and had an old feel about it. The grounds were well kept. They stepped inside and made their way to the archives section. Inside the room were a bunch of old filing cabinets and shelves lined with almost bursting three-ring binders. Pete looked around the room and whistled.

"Wow," started Pete. "This looks like the payroll department back in D.C."

"No kidding," Myka replied.

She looked around the room for a starting point; she could only imagine how far back they would have to look considering the case. Provided the place did keep to its archival requirements. Too often many old cases and the like got shoved in the back and forgotten, left to the rats and the dust, hopefully such was not the case here. Myka looked back to Pete as they walked along a long row of shelves.

"Any idea where we should even start?" Myka asked as her fingers ran over the binders taking note of the dates as she did.

Pete thought back to Artie's briefing. Briefing. That it was. Very brief. Artie seemed a little distracted as of late. Pete filed that thought away for the moment as he drummed his fingers on top of a filing cabinet. It made a hollow sound that seemed to echo in the tight quarters of the room.

"What did Artie say this morning?" started Pete. "Think it was 1910 when she was killed."

Myka nodded in response, attempting to brush off a cobweb that had attached to her.

"I got the cabinets, you got the shelves?" asked Pete.

"I think so, we can start there then." She replied nodding.

Myka scrunched her brow as she picked a cobweb loose from her jacket's sleeve with little avail. At least in the Warehouse they were few and far between as opposed to here. Pete turned in the opposite direction as Myka moved towards a short step ladder and stopped in front of a series of shelves.

She sighed as she looked up. Why did all archival facilities feel the need to keep older archival material further from reach? Cardinal Law? Finding that the step ladder thankfully appeared sturdy; she climbed up and began to search the binders. Starting from the early 1900's and moving forward until she found the year she was looking for. Very carefully, she tucked the binder under her arm and climbed back down, before deciding to flip it open and rifle through the contents as she did.

Cautiously she leaned back as she thumbed through the reports. It was all very, very old material. And so far rather hum-drum. Myka looked up and in the direction that Pete had wandered off.

"Pete? You find anything yet?" She called out.

What?" asked Pete as he moved to stand. Unfortunately, he forgot about the cabinet drawer he had left open. "Ow!"

Pete came walking around the mass of filing cabinets rubbing the back of his head. He had a file in his hand. It was a thick file filled with reports on sightings of dead relatives. Deceased relatives that had apparently grown tired of being dead. It was some weird reading. Unfortunately, a lot of it was sketchily written and there was some water damage.

Tossing the file on top of a filing cabinet Pete looked at Myka. "What'd you say?"

"I said did you find anything? Didn't turn up much in here, mostly very old police reports."

She looked up from the binder and noticed Pete holding a hand to his head and she grimaced. "Geez, you okay?"

He nodded at Myka and lowered his hand from his head, having finally cleared away the cobwebs. "Yeah, just dandy."

"I found a file holding what appears to be reports on returning dead relatives, said Pete. "Some of it is faded and water-damaged."

Pete pulled a few of the reports out and flipped through them. There were about thirty, with perhaps ten of them that made any sense. He separated out the ones they could use from the ones that were unreadable. The handwriting was pretty sketchy too. Sort of hurried or perhaps...

"It looks like they didn't take these too seriously."

Myka set the binder down on the file cabinet and stood near Pete as she looked over the reports. The papers were yellowed and wrinkled and she was careful as she handled them.

"Certainly looks that way." She commented. "Most of what I can make out here on the paper suggests suspected occultist activities. Though, from what has been written, it looks like they chalked it up to just the locals looking to make a buck off ghost stories and witchcraft."

Myka chuckled humorlessly. "Probably not much to do out here in this neck of the woods anyway."

She handed the file back to Pete and grabbed the binder. "I found this, more of the same sadly. If I didn't know better the rats got the later entries." She indicated flipping towards the back.

Pete walked over with his files and looked over Myka's shoulder at the binder she was holding. He looked at a few of the details and nodded, returning to his files. He checked over both sets for a few moments, comparing them to his city map. Finally, he nodded to himself.

"Looks like most of these center around the French Quarter," commented Pete. "At least from what I can read of these. Certainly nowhere specific mentioned, but definitely in that area."

Pete walked back over to the folder and refiled the reports. He walked back around to the cabinet and replaced the folder, making sure to shut all the drawers. He checked the tour map again and tapped on it with his finger.

"Ok, let's hit the library."

"Right, let me put this back first." Myka grabbed the binder and walked towards where she had originally retrieved the leather bound book.

As cautiously as before she replaced the binder from its original resting place. She breathed a sigh of relief when her feet touched the ground and the task had been finished. Next stop the library; she hoped they would be able to find more information there as opposed to what little information they had managed to scrounge up here.

Several minutes later, she and Pete arrived at the library. Suffice it to say the place was small and cramped. Myka and Pete made their way to the back where the newspaper articles were housed. They then began the slow, arduous task of going through the old articles; many of them had yet to make the digital transition sadly. Thankfully the articles were well maintained despite their age.

Myka and Pete stood hunched over a viewing table as they scrutinized the reports. Rubbing her neck Myka paused as something on the pages caught her eyes and she tapped Pete lightly on the arm.

"Hey, I think I found something," she remarked as she gestured with her fingers to the paper. "Looks like an obituary on Madame LaRue, or at least a report conducted on her after she was hung."

She leaned closer as she read the article. "She was of mixed heritage, white ancestry and African. Well that along with her rumors of supposedly raising the dead are bound to make her unpopular."

Pete nodded. "I'd think so."

Overall, the library had yielded nothing of particular use, save for a lone sepia-tinged photograph or LaRue. That might be important. Beyond that, the scant references to her yielded nothing of value. Mostly rumor and opinion. Pete closed a large folder and rubbed the resulting dust cloud out of his eyes. He sat there quietly for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut.

Aside from having strong feelings about lunch, Pete was getting a sense that LaRue was a forgotten piece of history. Most likely purposefully forgotten. There were no birth records or other articles about her. Louisiana voodoo was very popular back in the day. Extremely so after the 1930s when the cult religion was forced underground in order to maintain peace and purity. Something about a movie called 'White Zombie'. Pete decided he would definitely have to check that out.

Given the popularity of the local voodoo practice, and it's attachments with Catholicism, Pete had expected more. A lot of the newspapers from that era were either missing, incomplete or had no mention of LaRue. Pete stroked his chin.

"We might benefit more from looking at the family tree of LaRue," said Pete. "Maybe try to find some relatives or people old enough to remember something. I'm getting the feeling that the town would prefer to forget Madame LaRue."

Pete leaned back in his chair and stretched. "This is, of course, after we get some lunch. All this eyeballing old records gives me an appetite."

Myka sat down and held a hand to her temple, having stared at line after line of text for hours on end coupled with lack of sleep had given her a migraine. And so far their search had been fruitless. She looked up as Pete spoke to her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she did. Quietly she listened and nodded in agreement to his statement, they were going to have to dig deeper, maybe the locals could provide them with some information?

She rolled her eyes at Pete's complaint of hunger. "When are you not hungry?" Myka leaned back slightly working out a kink in her neck as she did and fought back a yawn. "I won't lie though; I could go for something right now myself." She then added as afterthought. "And dare I say it something caffeinated."

Pete stood up, slipping his sports coat back on. He was glad to be leaving the library. It was cramped and stale. He needed to get out into the air and sunshine. Let his mind be free to think on what they had learned. He checked his watch as he waited for Myka to collect herself. Hopefully there was a good place to eat nearby.

Pete helped Myka return all of the materials that they had collected for their search. It had turned out to be quite a pile. Pete clapped his hands together as they left the library to try and remove some of the dust. He sneezed.

The outdoors felt good. Cleaner. Brighter. Less boring. Pete walked along with Myka beside him. If it wasn't for the machete-wielding psycho dude, this would almost feel like a vacation. After a decent walk, the two agents found a bar and grill type of restaurant and entered. Pete smelled some kind of sweet pork wafting through the air. A sign read 'Cracklins'.

"I don't know what that is, but it sure smells good," he said.

Myka nodded taking an appreciative whiff of the air. "C'mon lets grab a table." She froze in mid step her hand automatically stopping to rest on her SIG, and her eyes narrowed.

Pete sensed her discomfort and turned towards her his hand touching her arm. "What's wrong?"

Silently she nodded gesturing to the bar. "Third stool from the left, I swear that's the same man that attacked us last night."

She didn't know how to act, their would be attacker sat but a few feet away, but if she whipped out the badge their cover would be blown. Two Secret Service Agents tromping through the Bayou was bound to attract attention, and unnecessary attention was something neither of them needed.

Pete casually guided his gaze towards the man Myka had indicated. He was less gaunt looking. Less wild-eyed and insane looking too. Still, he was very familiar to Pete. He was the machete psycho guy. He was also having a beer with his lunch. A lunch he was sharing with what appeared to be his wife and three children. Pete nudged Myka, indicating for her to back off of the situation.

"Let's just grab a bite and casually observe," said Pete. "Get a sense of what we're dealing with here." A waitress came up to them, a welcoming smile on her face. "Can I seat ya'll?"

"Sure," said Pete, also smiling. The waitress led them to a table, wiping it off with a damp cloth before moving aside so they could sit. She set two menus down on the table along with some silverware. She stepped away for a moment and came back with two glasses of iced water, a couple wedges of lime in each.

"Can I start ya'll with something?" she asked, pad in hand.

Pete jumped in. "Can I get an order of those cracklins? And a Dr. Pepper with the mint leaves?"

"Ya'll are from up north, I expect?"

"Uh, yeah," said Pete.

The waitress chuckled a little. "Alright, hon. I'll be back with your order in a minute."

She walked off, writing on her pad. Pete looked after her and then back at Myka, shrugging. He saw that she was still eyeing the guy at the bar. Pete subtlety kicked her under the table to snap her out of it.

"Stop that," said Pete through a smile.

"Ow!" Myka jumped slightly as Pete kicked her in the shins which earned him a sharp stomp on his toes.

"Ah geez!"

She frowned at him, "You didn't have to kick me!" She whispered harshly across the table at him. Pete leaned forward slightly.

"Just quit eyeballin' the guy." He replied through his teeth. Myka frowned again.

"Sorry, it's just that I don't know what to do." Deciding to focus her attention on the menu, she contemplated their current situation and before long the waitress reappeared with Pete's order. Realizing she had yet to order a drink, Myka went with Iced Tea before she asked the waitress for a few more minutes to decide on their meal.

"Don't." She heard Pete remark as her eyes drifted back towards the direction of the bar before fixating back on the menu.

"Myka, you have to keep cool," started Pete. "If you blow up in here with no proof other than the story of what we saw, we'll be done."

"I know," said Myka. "It's just..."

Pete cut her off. "Look, I know it's the guy. I also know he's with his family and this is his town. If we drop the ball on this now, we won't have much luck getting the information that we need. So, relax. We'll deal with it later."

Myka's neck was scrunching. Pete shook his head.

The waitress returned with Myka's tea and her notepad.

"What'd ya'll decide?"

Myka decided on the catfish courtbouillion while Pete ordered a barbequed shrimp dish. The pair sat in silence as they ate when their meals arrived, and Myka heeded Pete's advice knowing full well he was right in that if she decided to call the man out on his actions from the night before it would only arouse suspicion. Sometime later the man and his family exited from the bar and grill and Myka sighed in exasperation knowing there was nothing they could do for the moment.

Pete looked up from a bite of shrimp as Myka spoke to him. "I've been thinking…"

"About?" Pete asked taking a sip of his drink.

"We should probably go check out the French Quarter later, dig up some dirt from the locals."

Pete quirked an eyebrow. "That's over by The Strip you know."

"So?" She questioned raising her fork as she did.

"So? Hello, Mardi Gras is in full swing, we go over there we'll stick out like a couple of sore thumbs, well I don't know about me, but you…you…" He gestured lamely. "Well…"

"Well what?" She asked frowning. Slow realization dawned over her and she chuckled. "Oh ho, I get it; you don't think I can blend in."

"Frankly, Myka," started Pete. "No."

Myka gave him a look of mixed anger, disbelief and exasperation. Pete set his fork down and pushed his plate aside. Myka was clearly offended by his remark. Unfortunately, Pete did not know of an easier way to break it to her.

"You're too uptight, Myka," said Pete. "You'd stick out like a peacock in a chicken farm. I was going to head down there later while you checked in with Artie and see if he had anything."

Myka's nails dug into the table as she fixed a stare on Pete. "I thought you and I were partners, I know I can prove you wrong."

She made a gesture with her hand. "What if you get attacked in the evening, then what Pete?" At that remark she saw him wince. Like it or not she did have a point. She took a breath before she spoke again her voice softened in tone. "I don't want to see you get hurt."

Pete sat back, sighing. He had not intended to hurt Myka's feelings. He was trying to keep her out of an uncomfortable situation. Well, that was only half the truth. He was also trying to keep himself away from having to deal with Myka being in an uncomfortable situation. She tended to go off at things too quickly.

Then there was also the thing about the psycho they faced. One of them alone might not have survived it. Pete nodded. "Sorry, Myka," started Pete. "I was a jerk. We are partners."

Myka breathed a sigh of relief at Pete's answer, grateful for his understanding. She knew he meant well, but at the same time if either tried braving this force alone at night she knew that neither of them stood a chance. Myka smiled at Pete. "Thanks Pete." She then added, "I promise I'll try not to stick out too much."

The pair looked up as the waitress arrived with their check and the pair paid for the bill before exiting the bar and grill, and stepped outside proceeding to head back towards the Hotel to change attire.

The metallic buzzing of the Farnsworth halted them both in their steps and Pete and Myka stepped off to the side out of sight from any onlookers before answering Artie's call.

"Hey Artie, what's up?" Pete asked.

"I've been a little busy," said Artie. "I was wondering if you had checked in. If not, then why not."

Pete and Myka looked at each other and shrugged. Pete felt that Artie was perhaps agitated. They had forgotten to call in before, but had never gotten that reaction. It must be something else. They would definitely have to look into it when they got back to the Warehouse.

"Nothing much to report," started Pete. "We did some research at the local library and courthouse. We found some old reports on returning dead relatives and most of them were centered in the French Quarter. We're about to head over there and see if we can find someone who might know more about LaRue than we do."

Artie sat back and removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"You ok, Artie?" asked Myka.

"Fine. I'm fine!" said Artie. Clearing his throat he spoke again. "Let me know what you find out. Good luck."

Artie closed off his Farnsworth and Pete did the same. His eyebrows raised briefly as he replaced the Farnsworth back into his pocket. He shrugged.

"Let's go and get ready."


	4. Chapter 4

Myka could only wager what was bothering Artie, she half suspected that maybe Claudia had been causing trouble again for him in the Warehouse. That girl had a habit for getting into mischief, be it unintentional or not. That or maybe Mrs. Frederic had paid Artie a surprise visit. Either or, it was hard to tell sometimes with Artie. The pair eventually returned to their room and prepared for their trek to the Strip.

Opting to use the bathroom, Myka grabbed a change of attire and slipped inside while Pete got ready outside. Several minutes later she heard knocking coming from the door.

"You about ready or what?" Pete called out.

Capping her lip gloss, Myka studied her appearance before she walked to the door and greeted Pete, flashing him a smile as she did. "Ready if you are?" Myka remarked as she stood in the doorway.

Pete was wordless as he studied Myka.

"What?" She asked.

Her new attire consisted of light tan draw string khakis that stopped just below her knees accentuating her long legs whilst exposing the infinity tattoo on her ankle. A pair of sandals and a designer spaghetti strapped blue tank top completed the look along with a simple silver charm necklace held together with black cord that hung around her neck.

"Is it you or Alice?" asked Pete, incredulously. "You look...hot...!"

Pete finished slipping into his outfit as he looked at Myka. He just had one more thing to add.

He was wearing a pair of blue jeans, a white t-shirt. The last thing was a Hawaiian shirt with a red, blue, green and yellow theme. A little homage to Magnum, p.i. in his attire. He could not resist finally breaking out the shirt. The shirt also added a little more cover to his SIG.

Slipping on his sunglasses and popping a piece of gum, Pete looked back on Myka. Actually, looked her up and down. Again. He saw he was getting that patented 'Myka look'.

Clearing his throat, Pete spoke up. "I think we're ready to be tourists looking for fun."

"I'm not a sociopath who's been trapped in mirror, you can rest easy." Myka remarked, blushing lightly as she pushed past him. "And you were worried about me not being able to blend in?" She asked a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Standing in front of the room's mirror, Myka checked her hair before she reached for a white sweater which she tied around her waist. Reaching for the Tesla she deposited the gun in a small hand purse.

She reddened visibly feeling Pete's eyes on her and she cleared her throat. Ever since the case in Vegas, she'd catch him every now and again glancing her way. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd been boasting about that kiss but given how far Alice had gone…Myka smiled and gestured to the door pushing the thought aside. "Let's go."

Pete locked up the room after they had stepped into the hallway. He had his tourist map in hand. Fortunately, the French Quarter was a big attraction and extremely easy to find.

The sound of a band playing somewhere close by drew Pete's attention. It was the same song that he had heard when they were attacked. It brought a little chill to his spine. Though, oddly he had heard it after the attack was over. Just when the man had disappeared. It still was not making his top forty.

Using Pete's trusty map, the pair made their way to the bustling French Quarter of New Orleans. The French Quarter is the oldest neighborhood in New Orleans, tracing its roots back to the early 1700s. It was declared a national historic landmark in 1965. When Hurricane Katrina hit in 2005, this area was one of the few that escaped with only minor damage.

More notable, perhaps, is that the French Quarter is one of very few places in the United States where you can openly carry and drink alcohol in public. As they walked around, Pete wished that he was only on vacation. It was a crime to ruin it by looking for artifact-driven psychotics.

Myka stuck close to Pete as they navigated through the French Quarter, her eyes observing their surroundings as they did. As she anticipated it was occupied by tourists and college kids escaping for the weekend. If not for the fact they were tracking down an artifact this would have almost felt like a vacation.

As Myka mused on the last time she had an actual vacation she looked up as Pete nudged her arm gently pointing out a series of streets that led to where Tarot readers and the like had set up shop and she nodded. "It's still daylight, you wanna check out the Tarot shops and I'll go see what I can dig up in the clubs?" She asked before quickly adding,

"Artie mentioned a connection to music, maybe one of the musicians knows something about Madame LaRue that can help us."

Pete rubbed the back of his head as he weighed the idea. He was not exactly keen on letting Myka go alone into the clubs in this area. Especially dressed as she was. Then again, the clubs were more public than the shops were. She also had the Tesla on her. And she was Myka. Pete sighed and nodded.

"Good luck, Myka," said Pete. "Call me if you need me."

Myka smiled reassuringly at Pete before she walked away from him. "I'll be okay don't worry."

Pete opened his tourist map and looked for a listing of any shops in the area. He started walking down one of the streets he had pointed out earlier. He stopped about halfway down the street, folding up the map. He tapped it against his leg as he thought over a few things.

It would probably be best not to be contained by the tourist map. The city had pushed to erase LaRue from its recorded history. Pete needed to walk off the beaten path to find answers. Switching to the city map, he started walking around the area with a different mission.

He also realized he had not stopped worrying about Myka.

Myka ventured off in the direction of the clubs, her eyes drinking in her surroundings as she did taking in the sights and sounds of everything around her. As she stepped towards one of the clubs, the sounds of jazz music instantly greeted her ears. "Here goes nothing." Steeling her nerves Myka stepped inside, her eyes adjusting to the muted lighting as she did.

There was a band playing on stage and a trio of musicians sat nearby awaiting their turns. A jazz club, she figured realizing the need for muted lighting. Pulling up a chair Myka sat down by the bar, senses on high alert as she did. She nodded as the one musicians came to sit down at the bar. "Hey there, great set." She pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.

"Thanks." He was a local, she could tell by the accent. Thankfully he hadn't tried to hit on her, for which Myka was grateful. The people here seemed laid back despite the fact that there was something evil in the air.

"I was wondering if you could tell me anything about Madame LaRue." She quickly added at the man's befuddled expression. "I'm writing an article." At this his expression relaxed. "Well if you put it that way, I'll tell ya what I know." Smiling Myka ordered a glass of water with a lime wedge and listened to the man as he spoke, gathering as much info as she could. She hoped Pete was making out as well as she was.

* * *

Pete had walked around the area for several minutes. He saw the shops noted on the tourist map. There were quite a few, all with different themes. Still, there were two types that he could see. Ones that obviously catered to the tourists and the ones that pretended they didn't, but actually did.

Looking through the windows, Pete did not get the feeling that he would find what he needed in those places. Just the usual stuff there. As he kept walking, however, he suddenly felt like his luck had changed. He looked down a cramped side alley and saw a door. Walking down there he saw that the door had a sign on it.

"_La magie et Trompe_," said Pete slowly, working his high school French. "Magic and tricks?"

Pete knocked on the door and pushed it open, stepping inside.

"You look like you're trying hard to be a tourist," came a voice.

"I guess not hard enough," said Pete. "Hello."

"Bon jour," said the voice again.

A short, older woman of mixed ancestry came out from behind some shelves. She was dressed in a red shirt and blue jeans, a scarf over her hair. She had a rag in her hand.

"Cleaning day?" asked Pete.

"Oui," she replied. "Que vous amène ici, Monsieur Touriste Qui n'Est pas?"

"My French is a little rusty, miss...," said Pete with a shrug.

"What brings you here?" she asked.

"My name is Pete," he commented with a smile. "I am here to find information about Madame LaRue."

"What makes you think I possess this knowledge?" the woman asked.

"Well, from what I have seen, the city appears to have pretty much erased all traces of her from its history," started Pete. "Your shop is not on the map. You've clearly chosen an isolated spot. You also have a lot of books. I would say my odds are decent."

The woman smiled and walked up to him, patting him on the cheek. "I see that my time has not been wasted. Come with me, beau. My name is Gilliane."

Pete followed Gilliane into a small parlor. She had a pot of tea already on to brew. She pulled out another cup and set a place for Pete. When they sat down she offered a small plate with cookies. Pete's eyes lit up and he took three. Gilliane smiled and then spoke.

"Let me tell you what I know of the story of Madame LaRue."

* * *

Myka took a long swig of her iced water as she glanced over her notes, reviewing what information the musician Jacques had provided her about Madame LaRue. Apparently the Madame was a fond lover of Jazz of music, and it was a fond memory she carried with her up until her death. Her passion for the arts was apparently as deeply rooted as that for her love of the music.

Myka wondered if there was any connection between it and the artifact they were seeking out. Thinking back on last night she remembered her and Pete both hearing music before their attacker disappeared without a trace. She would have to mention it to Artie. And Pete. Her thoughts drifting to her partner Myka reached for her cell phone but paused as she noticed a man some ways away from her seated at the bar.

Mentally she cursed. He'd tried hitting on her sometime earlier. Myka wasn't certain if he was trying to pick her up, following her or just drunk. Quietly finishing her iced water she stood up from the bar and glanced to the exit praying he would not follow her. If push came to shove she couldn't use the Tesla, the weapon would draw more unwanted attention. Fast. Swiftly Myka moved towards the exit, eyes and ears alert.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she spied Pete; he had not yet seen her. She glanced over her shoulder, spying she hadn't lost her unwanted company. Myka gasped as she felt a hand grasp her shoulder and she found herself face to face with Pete. Instinctively she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close resting her head on his chest.

"Honey I was wondering when you'd show up." At his confused expression she pulled back slightly and whispered harshly. "Follow my lead, I have an unwanted fan."

Pete put his arms around her and smiled. Pretending to kiss the top of her head, he spoke quietly. "On the eleven o'clock. Purple shirt and khakis?"

"Yes," said Myka.

Pete moved his hand to brush Myka's hair away from her ear. He pretended to whisper something and then nodded his head towards the exit of the bar. If the guy followed, he was trouble. If not, he was just some dude looking for action.

The pair left the bar and walked out into the street. He was curious to see what Myka found and to share what he found as well. Still, there was another concern. It was getting late and Pete was thinking that it might be a good idea to return to the hotel.

"Let's head back," said Pete. "We can catch a bite at the cafe across from the hotel or something."

Myka nodded hesitantly and nodded again in the direction of the bar. "He gone?"

Pete faked a laugh and looked around, aiming his direction in a sweep towards the bar. Purple Shirt was nowhere to be seen. Pete took an extra look around, focusing on some street performers to be sure.

"Yeah, he's gone," said Pete.

Breathing a sigh of relief Myka broke away from Pete and ducked her head. "Thanks. I wasn't sure if I was being tailed or...or..." She paused as she looked back at Pete, he didn't appear overly thrilled to have left her alone earlier. "I'm okay; let's just get back to the Hotel." Myka added quickly.

The agents made their way as quickly as possible to their hotel. Night was falling and neither one of them entertained the idea of being out for the 'night life'. As it was, the daytime hours had predators of its own. Thankfully, he had just been a local Don Juan wannabe type. Probably just turned on his barstool and focused on someone else.

They left the French Quarter on foot, weaving their way through everyone. They decided to duck down a side alley to try and avoid the crowds of tourists. Myka had suggested it and Pete agreed, even though he had this gnawing feeling in his gut.

As they moved down the alley, it opened up into a small courtyard. Pete studied the city map to try and get the most direct route. Myka took the map and examined it with a small penlight. Pete eyed their surroundings when that gnawing feeling came back. He spotted a shape coming out of another alley. As it moved slowly into the light, he saw a hint of purple showing. As it came fully into the light, Pete drew his weapon.

"Myka!"

It was Purple Shirt from the bar, only he did not look like a whiskey-faced barfly. He looked gaunt and very much like he was up to no good. He had a broken bottle in one hand. The other hand held a scaling knife.

"You don't want to get into this, pal!" shouted Pete. "Stop where you are!"

The man did not stop. He kept moving forward at a steady pace. Another shape came from the alley to Pete's left. Same slow walk, but still in darkness. Pete cursed mentally as he aimed at Purple Shirt.

A pistol report broke the night air, but fell on deaf ears just on the other side of the buildings. The night party was in full swing with a lot of yelling, drinking and fireworks. Purple Shirt caught a shot just above the knee. He staggered and kept moving.

"Myka," started Pete suddenly. "Machete Man, did he look injured when we saw him with his family?"

"No he did not." Myka swallowed hesitantly as she withdrew her Tesla. It was bad enough they had to deal with one man the first time but now they had two of them on their hands. This could turn very ugly very fast. Myka barked a warning at the second man and when she received no reply she fired off the Tesla and struck the man full in the chest. It only served to make him madder. "So not good."

Growling the first man approached them more quickly and the pair backed away, one of the shots Pete fired off managed to knock the bottle out of the first man's hand, another shot hit him square in the shoulder but he still kept right on coming.

Backing up against Pete, Myka looked around for an escape. "We can't take them both down, we gotta get outta here now!" She hissed as she aimed the Tesla again, the man that had been eyeing Myka earlier growled before he quickened his pace aiming straight for Pete with the scaling knife which he threw straight at his head.

"PETE!" Myka tackled Pete to the ground knocking him out of the knife's path, the blade barely missing them both. Hurriedly they scrambled back to their feet as the second man approached, barely giving Myka time to fire off a shot with the Tesla causing him to stumble slightly.

"I think it's time we blow this Popsicle stand!" Pete remarked as he and Myka began backing away from their pursuers.

The other man that had joined them ran and grabbed Myka's arm. He had a straight razor and wore an apron of some kind. Perhaps a barber.

"No!" said Pete as he raised his SIG and fired.

The bullet ripped into the man's head and he keeled over almost instantly. His grip fell away, releasing Myka's arm. Pete grabbed Myka and they ran down an empty alley. They ran and kept running until they saw their hotel.

Neither breathed a sigh of relief until they had stepped inside the Hotel the doors shut closed behind them. Myka and Pete collapsed against the wall as they caught their breath, adrenaline still racing wildly through their systems. Shaking, Myka leaned against Pete as she fought to regain her bearings. "That was too close, way too close."

"You're telling me," said Pete.

His mind was racing. He had just shot and killed a man. He was very surprised that he was even able to stop one of those guys. It was a clean shoot. The guy had Myka and was about to slash her open with a razor. A freaking old-school straight razor. Pete hoped that his hunch was correct.

The guy they had fought the previous night was at the restaurant with his family. He had no casts or bandages of any kind. He was fine even though he had been shot several times. Pete hoped that the barber was the same way. Still, he was a little on edge.

Pete stood up, helping Myka up as well. They walked to their room and Pete crashed right onto the bed.

Myka sat down numbly on the edge of her bed, her mind still attempting to process what had happened tonight. She held a hand to her face and heaved a sigh. This was getting more insane by the minute, first a machete wielding maniac, and tonight a man came after her with a razor. Shivering Myka drew her knees up to her chest, resting her chin atop her knees as she did. She sighed wondering how she'd be able to sleep at all tonight. Myka looked over at Pete and spied that he had passed out straight away from exhaustion.

Falling back against the mattress, Myka kicked off her sandals before she reached for her pillow and clutched it close to her body as she had done the night before and before long her own body had given into exhaustion.


	5. Chapter 5

***

Pete woke up to a sliver of sunlight shining on his face. A thin sheen of sweat covered his face. The last remnants of a living nightmare slowly being swept back into the subconscious. His body ached with pain from his nearly suicide run from those two assailants the night before. It was an ugly reality that he had to face.

Checking his watch, he saw that it was a quarter past nine in the morning. He had slept in far later than normal, but felt like he had just had two hours of sleep. Man did he ever feel like crap.

Getting up, Pete slowly made his way to the bathroom. He plugged the sink and let it fill with cold water. Once it had reached a decent depth, he sank his face into the sink. The cold water felt good. Draining the sink, Pete closed the door and stripped off to take a shower. Again, cold water. He needed something to wake him up.

He would have to talk to the local LEOs. He had shot a man in defense of another. It had to be reported. Still, before he did that, he had to confirm a nagging suspicion. He would have to go back to that small courtyard where they were. He would have to see it again, for himself.

After he was finished with his shower, Pete toweled off and changed back into his clothes.

Myka sat up and groaned as she framed her face in her hands. The events of last night were a blur and she hadn't even been drinking. Shower. She needed a shower to clear her head.

Groggily she stood up and walked in the direction of the bathroom, Myka yelped when she walked straight into Pete who had just exited the bathroom and she held a hand over her chest before exclaiming, "PETE! God don't do that."

"Sorry Myka," said Pete as he put a hand on her shoulder. "Didn't know you were up yet."

He walked over to his bag and pulled out a clean shirt. He shook it out a few times to try and get some of the wrinkles out.

"Shower is free," started Pete again. "And I didn't use any hot water. So. You're good there."

Myka walked into the bathroom and closed the door. Pete changed shirts and situated his sidearm, badge and credentials about his person. He was going to go and take a look at the scene again.

Using the phone, Pete ordered a coffee, yogurt and toast sent up to the room. Hanging up, Pete slipped into his sports jacket and left the room, locking up behind him. He walked down the hall and was out in the streets within a few minutes. He had a basic idea of where he needed to go. Some of it was blurry, but he could go back to where they had been and work it from that angle.

The whole thing was just bizarre. Pete made his way to the French Quarter again and stopped at the Cafe du Monde. He picked himself up a coffee and a beignet to clear his head. Besides, he had a long talk with the NOPD coming up. He may as well down some energy for it.

Collecting his food, Pete made his way back to the scene using what he remembered.

Several minutes later Myka emerged from the bathroom, a black terrycloth bathrobe wrapped around her form having neglected to grab a change of clothing after she entered the bathroom. Myka looked around the room as she toweled her hair dry and spied that Pete had left, presumably to reexamine the scene she wagered. She'd call him up the first chance she got, but for right now she just wanted to clear the morning fog from her head. At least the hot shower had helped in that area.

Myka dressed, putting on a set of clean clothing. By the time she had finished changing, room service arrived with breakfast. Pete probably had it ordered up she figured. Grateful for the coffee and the yogurt, Myka ate her breakfast in silence, the memories of last night coming back to haunt her.

Twice now Pete had saved her life, both times without hesitation. Myka could only imagine how the scene would have played out had he chosen to go alone. No she wouldn't let that happen. Never again would she lose another partner.

Finished with breakfast, Myka reached for her badge, credentials, and the Tesla, along with her personal weapon which she slipped on her belt before rising from the table. Just as Myka stepped outside the hotel room she felt her cell phone buzz to life.

Flipping it open she saw that the caller ID indicated the caller was her partner and she held the phone to her ear.

"Pete where are you?"

Pete was standing across the street from a particular shop. He was holding a coffee cup in one hand and his phone in the other. Looking through the large glass window across the way, he saw someone familiar. Very familiar.

The phone rang in his ear as he waited for Myka to pick up. He sipped his still steaming coffee slowly. His eyes never left the shop.

"Pete? Where are you?" Came her voice.

Pete did not answer immediately. He was still in disbelief, though he shouldn't be. Still, a shot to the head should have been the end of that man. Still, there he was right across the street. Giving someone a shave with that straight razor.

"I am in the French Quarter, Myka," started Pete slowly. "Looking at a barber, with no head wound, giving a man a shave."

Myka stopped walking as Pete spoke to her, his words stopping her dead in her tracks. She blinked after his voice registered, realizing she hadn't said anything after about a minute or so.

"Myka, are you still there?" She shook her head and took a sip of coffee. "Yeah, sorry, are you sure it's the same guy from last night?" She asked still not quite believing what her partner had just relayed to her.

"Oh, I'm sure," said Pete. "Now I know why he looked familiar. I talked to him yesterday afternoon. I figured you were getting tired of the hotel's coffee, so I asked him where the best coffee was. He suggested the Cafe du Monde."

Pete sipped at his coffee as he went to find a bench on which to sit. All of it was just bizarre.

"Friendly guy too." Pete shook his head. "I guess the talk I was going to have with the NOPD is off. Thank God."

"I still don't believe it, I, I watched you shoot him in the head!" She remarked still in disbelief.

"And he doesn't remember anything?" Myka had sat down on the one of the sofas in the hall near the elevator, coffee cup still clutched in hand.

"Well, he waved at me just now," said Pete. "I think he is going to get himself a coffee."

Pete lifted his coffee cup in response to the wave. The man was smiling as he walked. Clearly, he did not seem to have any worries on his mind. Certainly nothing stuck in his mind either.

"Come on down, Myka," Pete said quietly. "We need to get to the bottom of this."

"I'll meet you there as soon I can, don't wander too far." Myka replied as she stepped inside the elevator and hit the button for the lobby.

"Got it, see ya soon." Myka hung up her phone as Pete did likewise and she waited for the elevator to take her down the lobby of the hotel. Several minutes later she arrived at the Cafe du Monde in the French Quarter. Finished with her coffee she tossed the empty Styrofoam cup into a trash bin and spotted Pete pacing as she approached.

"Hey, I'm here. Thanks for breakfast by the way." She remarked smiling having appreciated his earlier gesture. Casting a glance down the streets she looked around before turning to look back at Pete.

"Where did you want to start next? The scene from last night? We never did go over what we found out down here."

"True," said Pete. He looked around the square as they stood near the Cafe du Monde. He saw a bench that was more or less isolated. He finished his coffee and tossed away the cup.

"Let's sit down over there," Pete continued. The pair walked over to the bench and sat down. Both glanced about the area before they started talking. Pete took off his sunglasses, placing them in his jacket pocket. Turning to Myka, he spoke. "Okay, so what did you learn?"

Myka reached into her pocket and withdrew a pad of paper from which she had jotted down notes onto and referred to them as she spoke to Pete.

"I spoke to a musician last night at the jazz club, his name was Jacques. Turns out he also runs the place. Anyway I asked him if he knew anything about Madame LaRue, and he told me that she was very passionate about two things in her life; the black arts and music. Jazz was something she loved very much, even up to her death."

She pocketed the pad of paper and looked back at Pete. "We heard music the first night that first guy attacked us in the park, before he disappeared."

Myka made a gesture with her hands as she spoke. "Do you suppose it's somehow connected to the artifact?"

"I did notice that too," said Pete. "I brought it up to Artie. Haven't heard back on it yet. Still, from what you've said, this confirms what I was told as well."

Pete extracted his own leather-bound notepad and flipped it open. He flipped over a few pages until he found the one marked for his conversation with the shopkeeper lady.

"I spoke with a woman named Gilliane down in the Voodoo District as it is sometimes called," started Pete. "She was in a shop way off the beaten track. Down a small alley with only a sign directly on her door. No other outward ways of even knowing she was back there. Very cool though. Spoke a lot of French. Makes a mean pecan cookie too."

Pete noticed Myka rolling her eyes.

"Hey, they were good!" said Pete. "Anyway, Gilliane said that her passion for music was equal if not greater than her passion for the art of voodoo. Apparently she had a particular favorite, but Gilliane could not recall it directly. As to the charges laid against Madame LaRue, Gilliane does not see how it would be possible. Apparently LaRue only used her skills to help people."

Pete flipped over another page in his book. "The only personal items Madame LaRue had on her consistently were a hat pin and a turquoise necklace. She was not a strong believer in material possessions apparently."

Pete flipped his notebook closed and shrugged. They had a little bit more than they had before, but still not nearly enough. Gilliane had not been able to give a description of the necklace. Hopefully Artie would come through.

As if on cue, Pete felt the Farnsworth buzzing in his jacket and extracted the device, Myka scooted next to him on the bench as he turned it on. "Hey Artie, we were able to find out more information on the artifact, apparently we're looking for a piece of jewelry." Myka leaned closer as she spoke up quickly adding. "Yeah and we think Jazz music might be connected to the artifact, is it?"

"One at a time, one at a time!" Artie spoke up silencing both Agents instantly. "Now you were saying Pete? Something about a piece of jewelry?"

Pete nodded. "A woman I spoke to, Gilliane, said that Madame LaRue was only seen with two personal items constantly on her at all times. A hat pin and a necklace made of turquoise."

Artie frowned. "Did she mention anything about a Gris-Gris?" Pete and Myka exchanged glances before looking back at the Farnsworth. "A what now?" Myka asked as she brushed back a strand of hair behind her ear as she leaned forward slightly.

"A Gris-Gris. Some voodoo practitioners were said to use them direct evil away from themselves and onto others."

Pete and Myka grimaced. "Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth huh?" Pete asked.

"In a nutshell yes. Quite handy if you wanted to get back at an unruly neighbor. No mention of one?" Artie asked again.

Pete shook his head. "Nope, sorry Artie."

Artie turned away briefly from the Farnsworth and continued speaking as the sound of papers being rummaged through could be heard. "Then it could be either the hat pin or the necklace, in all likelihood with her death she passed on her essence, spirit if you will onto one of the two."

Removing his glasses Artie held a hand to his brow, deep in thought. "The question though is which…" Artie spoke again before he placed his glasses back on his face. "Myka you mentioned something about Jazz music?"

"Yeah, a man I spoke to said Madame LaRue valued two things more than anything in her life; a fondness for the black arts and jazz." Pete then added, "And the first time we heard jazz music when we were attacked, before the guy just vanished."

"The music must cancel out the effects of the artifact then! The only question is, is it just jazz music or a specific melody." Artie thought before speaking again. "You two have to find that artifact before the effects of this thing becomes further widespread. I'll call you back when I find more info. Be careful!"

That said Artie signed off the Farnsworth, and Pete pocketed the device after having done likewise.

"Okay...," started Pete as he looked around. "Most attacks centered around the French Quarter. Jazz loving voodoo practitioner with a hat pin and a single piece of jewelry. Hunted down for allegedly reviving the dead."

He clapped his hands on the tops of his thighs as he mulled over all that they knew. Looking down at the ground, he rubbed the back of his head in thought."

"I'm guessing the artifact is the necklace," Pete started. "More personal than a hat pin and is the real anomaly in LaRue's nature. The attacks happen at night. Perpetrators are mindless and very hostile. Perhaps...lynch mob-like? Music, specifically jazz, appears to stop the attacks. At least so far as we have seen."

Pete stood up and began walking over to a small stand that sold sausages, pastries and cold drinks. He needed some fuel for his thinking-storm. He ordered two iced lemon-mint teas and an order of boudin. Sipping at his tea, Pete looked around at the streets and the people.

"So, assuming as I am, that the perps we have met are representative of the mob faced by LaRue," said Pete, mostly in thought. "And music stops them...where does that leave us with a possible artifact user?"

Myka stood up following Pete. "Maybe the user of the artifact is acting on a subconscious level, channeling the energy of the artifact through her." Taking the offered drink, Myka thanked Pete before taking a sip of her tea. Her mind in intense thought as she worked to fit the pieces of the slowly assembling puzzle together.

"All the places we've been to so far have one thing in common...music. What if the holder of the artifact we're looking for is a musician?" She asked looking up.

Pete mused over what Myka had said for a moment.

"A musician?" said Pete aloud. "Ok, but we've still got an anger quotient."

Pete sipped at his tea and then took a bite of his food. He chewed quietly in thought as he and Myka stood in their little 'thought bubble'. After all the legwork, creepy alleys and midnight zombie assaults, Pete was glad to see some progress.

"Struggling artist then?" said Pete as he turned to look at Myka.

Myka shrugged. "It's possible, maybe she happened across the artifact in some way, shape, or form, and viewed it as a good luck charm."

She made a gesture with her hand as she continued, "Wouldn't be the first time someone got a hold of an artifact, to use in that way only to have it turn on them."

The pair continued to walk down the street as they spoke. "Also given, the situation, it's highly likely we are dealing with a struggling artist." Myka stopped walking as she did. "But the question is if she is doing this intentionally or unintentionally...?"

"My guess would be unintentionally," said Pete after a few moments. "The attacks are few and seemingly random. They're also away from any music, like last night. It does seem to be growing to be a bigger problem."

The pair walked along, going nowhere in particular. The aimless stroll was merely a physical representation of their thought process.

"So, given the necklace and attacks, we're looking for a frustrated female musician in or around the French Quarter," said Pete flatly. "I'm sure that narrows the field down some how."

Pete stopped walking, his hands going to his hips. Their progress came to a less than specific answer. Pete looked at Myka.

"I guess we should start with the clubs near where we were attacked last night. My guess would be that the effect has to be limited? Otherwise we would have an entire parish running around at night with chainsaws."

"Agreed, hopefully we can get this sorted out before it comes to that." Myka replied.

She dreaded the thought of having to deal with a possible lynch mob come the night. More specifically one brandishing chainsaws for that matter. Glancing down the street she looked back at her partner.

"You ready?"

"Yup," said Pete as he threw away his empty cup and wrapper. "Let's get this party started."

Finished with her drink Myka threw away the empty cup before she and Pete began to make their way down the streets and approached the entertainment area of the French Quarter. The events of last night hung fresh in both agents minds as they walked, moving from club to club, establishment to establishment, bar to bar. Anywhere they could find the holder of the artifact.

***


	6. Chapter 6

***

Myka looked up as she spied the club she entered last night and sighed. Pete gave her a shoulder a reassuring squeeze and he stood next to her closely. "I got your back this time babe." He remarked whispering in her ear softly, at which Myka rolled her eyes. "Don't push it."

The pair stepped inside, allowing their eyes time to adjust to the muted lighting of the establishment as they did. Pete made a gesture towards a table and the pair sat down, scoping out the area as they did.

"Wonder if we'll find anything here, no luck so far with any of the places." Myka remarked as she studied the area with a scrutinizing eye. A waitress came over to them to offer them drinks. As she had done so originally, Myka ordered a glass of ice water with a slice of lime, Pete doing likewise.

Sipping on her drink Myka looked around seeing if there was anyone she recognized from the night before. Her heart froze as she spied the man that had attacked them both from the night before. Not a single scratch could be found on him. Myka hoped that this time he wouldn't give her trouble since she had Pete with her. Glancing over she had noticed Pete had rested his arm on the back of her chair, and the man looked away after spotting them both.

"Thanks." She replied.

"No problem."

Myka leaned back in her chair slightly taking another sip of water as she watched the musicians on stage. "Don't go getting too comfortable."

Pete smiled as he toyed with a strand of her hair. "Just playing up the act." As if to emphasize her point, she lightly elbowed him in the ribs earning her a slight grimace before he replied. "Sorry, so you do recognize anyone else?" He asked looking around.

Myka's attention was focused on the stage, and she tapped Pete's arm as she nodded in the stage's direction. "I swear I've seen her face before…does she seem at all familiar to you?"

Pete's brow furrowed in thought, a gnawing feeling in his gut as he watched the young woman perform. "Now that you mention it, the restaurant when we first arrived?"

Myka leaned towards Pete and whispered, "We should try and approach her after the set."

Pete nodded. "Agreed."

Pete studied the young woman performing up on the stage. Contrary to what Myka was most likely thinking, he was looking for the necklace. The turquoise necklace. He did not have much luck for most of the set. Unfortunately, it was a little humid inside the bar with the crowd and the kitchen. Pete soon began to feel nature calling him.

"Damn," said Pete to himself as he stood up. "Be right back."

Myka rolled her eyes. Pete had packed away five large iced lime-waters. How was he supposed to investigate if he had to run to the bathroom? Myka sighed.

Pete began to make his way to the bathroom, sliding through the crowd. As he headed for the door, he stopped and turned to face the stage. His gut was getting a vibe. As the young woman up on stage moved to the beat of her song, he saw it. A scarf tied around her waist shifted and Pete saw a belt fashioned from a mix of a length of small chain and a turquoise necklace. Pete immediately headed back towards the table.

He came up behind Myka and whispered. "Did you see it, Myka?!"

She nodded, "Yeah I did! Pete it's gotta be her, she's in possession of the artifact!" Myka whispered back harshly, her eyes darted back towards the stage, "We gotta figure out a way to get close to her without drawing attention but how?"

Myka stopped speaking as the young woman ended her set and proceeded to step off stage.

"Go now." Pete remarked and Myka quickly rose from the table and moved towards the direction of the back of stage using the shadows as cover.

The pair stopped near a corner and peered around it, watching the young woman as they did. Pete ran around the opposite end as Myka approached the young woman.

"Excuse me Miss? I was wondering if I could speak to you?"

The woman smiled, "I don't really do autographs…but if you would like…"

Myka frowned at her change in expression, going from warm and friendly to skeptical and skittish. Mentally Myka slapped herself in the forehead; she spied the badge on her hip.

Holding up her hands she moved towards the young woman slowly. "I just wanna talk…I'm not here to arrest you."

The young woman back pedaled, tears in her eyes. "Just stay back! I'm warning you."

Myka then noticed her change in expression and halted. Her expression no longer resembled that of a frightened young woman, but of a vengeful, malicious creature, her eyes were filled with contempt, her features contorting in a leering glare. Myka had seen that exact same expression mirrored back at her when her doppelganger stood in front of Lewis Carroll's mirror with her trapped inside of it, holding a hammer high above her head ready to strike like a King Cobra sizing up its prey.

Could it be that this young woman had become possessed by the spirit of Madame LaRue?

"No longer will I suffer; no more!" The words fell off the young woman's tongue in an almost acidic tone. At this point Myka was starting to grow convinced that it had to be an effect of the artifact.

Myka's hand flew to her Tesla and just as she proceeded to withdraw the weapon, the girl had turned on her heel and bolted. They never make this easy.

"PETE! She's on the move!!" Myka shouted as she raced after the fleeing girl.

Pete set into action. Having figured heavily on their target rabbiting, Pete had been positioning himself. As the girl ran from Myka towards the rear door of the bar, she found the exit blocked with crates of beer and a handjack. The only other exit was a small, grungy window that had been nailed shut many years before.

She turned to exit the back room and found Pete standing in the doorway waving his finger in the 'no-no-no' gesture. He took off his sunglasses and placed them into his pocket.

"Take a break, chica," he started. "We just want to talk to you for a minute, ok? Afterwards we'll even buy you dinner."

The girl stared at him and Pete felt someone behind him. Someone that was not Myka. Moving to turn, Pete felt something impact the side of his head and he went down hard. He heard Myka through a haze and saw the girl and a large man running away. Pete drew his weapon, aimed and fired. He saw the big man jerk but could not muster up the awareness for a follow-up shot.

"Ugh..." groaned Pete as he held his head. "For crying out loud."

Myka ran over to Pete just in time to see the young woman run out of sight, with a large muscle-bound man in tow. She stopped next to her partner holstering the Tesla as she did.

"Are you okay?" She glanced around the corner as she helped Pete up and sighed. Their suspect was nowhere in sight.

"Great, the moment we find the girl we lose her." Myka turned her attention back to Pete who was still holding his injured forehead as he leaned on her for support.

"You really got clubbed there." She remarked grimacing.

"I tagged the big guy," said Pete as he moved to stand. "Think it was his right shoulder."

Using the wall behind him, Pete slowly made it to his feet. His head felt like the Hunchback was ringing all the bells at once. He staggered to a chair and sat down. After a few minutes his head began to clear. The side of his head still felt like a painful marshmallow. He grabbed a pitcher of ice water from a passing barman and held it to his head.

"Ahhh..." muttered Pete. "Guess I got caught up. Didn't see him."

Setting the pitcher down. Pete stood up from the chair. Now his head felt like a cold, painful marshmallow. Still, his head was clear and he was able to move without falling over. He started heading for the door.

"Come on; let's see if we can pick them up again."

Myka held a hand to her face and shook her head as Pete held a pitcher of ice water to his head. Her partner seemed to attract physical harm to himself like a magnet.

"You sure you're okay?" She asked as Pete slowly stood back up.

"Peachy."

Myka shook her head and sighed. "Just try and be a little more careful, c'mon."

Edging towards the door the pair stepped outside and looked up and down the back alleyways. A cat hissed at them both before it darted off into the shadows, and both groaned at the sight of evening slowly beginning to set in.

"Ya know, it just figures." Pete grumbled.

"Tell me about it." She looked towards the ground spotting a trail of blood drops. "It looks like they headed East."

***


	7. Chapter 7

***

Noticing the time of day, Pete looked around. He was torn between pursuing a suspect and bugging out of a potentially hostile situation. Night was coming on and that was when the attacks usually happened. He hesitated at the idea of running around New Orleans with that possibility.

"Myka," started Pete. "I think we should head back to the hotel. Night is coming on."

She nodded, "I'd rather we'd head back too, there's no telling what we'll be up against tonight." She remarked worriedly, scared out of what was possibly next on the zombie game plan. "We should hurry."

Pete and Myka headed in the direction of their hotel. Darkness rapidly set in and the streetlights came on. Pete had a hold of Myka's arm and was moving out quickly through the streets. He had a terrible feeling wash over him, one not connected to his injury. That's when he saw them.

"Ohh...nuts," said Pete.

Seven shadows appeared from the dark alleyways. They were moving slowly. Deliberately. Pete drew his weapon and started backing away. Six more shadows fell in behind the first group. At this moment Pete was wishing that he had something a little better than his SIG.

"Myka?" said Pete quietly. "Run. I'll hold them off."

Myka grabbed Pete's shoulder roughly, so that he faced her. "Are you out of your damned mind?!"

She saw Pete hesitate and the pair looked back towards the mob steadily growing in number and Myka swallowed a lump in her throat nervously. "C'mon we'll have to find another way back, but don't think for a minute I'm leaving you with a lynch mob!"

Reluctantly Pete nodded and looked around for a means for them to escape.

The pair spied an abandoned bar nearby that had long since been deserted, and ran in the building's direction. Neither dared to look over their shoulder at the small army growing behind them. The minute the pair stepped inside several pieces of furniture covered in sheets and dust greeted their eyes. If neither had known better it looked the last hurricane had come through here and done its damage.

Boards had been haphazardly nailed over the windows, barely hanging on. Moving quickly, Pete grabbed one of the fallen boards from off the ground and jammed it in the door handles barring it shut, before he and Myka grabbed a large shelving unit and shoved it in front of the door followed by four chairs.

"Get the windows!" Pete remarked as he and Myka moved to throw tables up against the exposed windows.

Myka noticed a dusty jukebox buried beneath a sheet and tore the covering off. The contents had not been disturbed, but did it still work?

"Pete!"

Pete looked up from propping a table against one of the windows and ran to his partner's side. "What is it?"

She pointed to the jukebox. "Think it still works, we get it working..." She started.

"We get rid of the zombies!" Pete finished.

As if on cue a loud banging erupted from the main door.

"Whatever we need to do faster would be better!" shouted Pete over the noise.

He grabbed a couple chairs and started throwing them on the floor. Other chairs and debris followed. His aim was to make it difficult for the mob to get to him and Myka. He found some empty bottles and ashtrays behind the bar and set them up for use. It was not much, but it would have to do.

The doors buckled slightly with the weight of the mob. Pete found an old fishbowl that still had marbles inside of it. He scattered the marbles on the floor as well. Myka eyed him and shook her head as she looked for a coin to use for the jukebox.

Heading over to where Myka was standing, Pete eyed the music machine. He kneeled down and plugged the cord into the wall socket.

"Here goes nothing." Myka remarked and fed a buck into the machine.

The machine came to life briefly after Myka entered what looked to be an old jazz tune. Instead it played the last song on its cue list; ironically enough the song played was Michael Jackson's "Thriller" as if to mock the pair before it died back down. The duo looked at each other incredulously and Pete looked around the machine attempting to see why it broke down as Myka huffed placing her hands on her hips. She looked back to Pete and tapped his shoulder.

"Step back." She stated.

"Why?" Pete asked.

"Just do it." Myka responded.

Shrugging Pete did as told and watched as Myka took two steps back before she yelled and delivered a hard front kick to the stubborn machine. The attack did little and as Myka stepped back prepping for another attack Pete quickly grabbed her arms and held her back. She was rightly upset but he knew if she tried it again she'd likely only hurt herself.

"Whoa easy there champ! I don't think it's gonna help either of us if you hurt yourself." Pete remarked and Myka sighed lowering her head in defeat as she fell against him shaking.

"This isn't fair Pete. I'm scared." Myka remarked woefully.

Pete patted her shoulder reassuringly. "I know, me too." He replied grimly.

The doors to the bar suddenly heaved and cracked under the weight of the attack. Arms stretched through the gaping hole now formed in their makeshift barricade. Pete grabbed Myka and headed behind the large bar. He drew his SIG and prepared to take on the horde.

Myka grabbed an old beer bottle and hurled it at the first zombie through the door. It impacted on the man's chest but did nothing to stop or slow him. Pete followed it up with the fishbowl and smacked the man in the head. Again, no effect.

"Crap!" said Pete.

Myka looked around as Pete threw another object. The zombies were having issue with the obstacles all around the room. One even slipped on the marbles. Myka shook her head in amazement and looked around behind the bar.

Spotting a heavy-looking metal door, Myka unlatched it and peered inside. It looked like an old freezer. It had a few empty bottles still inside, but that was all. It also latched on the inside. She could not help but wonder why.

"Pete!" she shouted over the noise.

Pete turned around and spotted Myka gesturing towards another room. He threw his last bottle and pulled back to where she stood.

"In here!" Myka said quickly.

The two agents ducked inside and latched the door closed. Just in time as Pete heard a fist impact on the door outside. Pete pulled out his flashlight and turned it on. It was dark, damp, musty and enclosed. A small freezer, most likely used for storing the alcohol. Shining the light around, he spotted a small opening in one wall. It looked like it used to contain a safe. That might explain the latch on the inside of a freezer door. There was nothing useful to be found, other than shelter.

"A freezer," started Pete. "This reminds me of the time I first made out. Kelli Kowalski. The freezer was the most private place in her father's restaurant. Needless to say, we didn't get very far."

Pete turned over a couple of old milk crates and sat down on one of them. A series of knocks sounded outside the door. Frantic, violent impacts. Pete shrugged to himself. If they got in, there was no where else to run. Until morning, they were stuck.

"Any chance of a retry?"

Sighing Myka sat down on a milk crate next to Pete, praying the door would hold. Given that this freezer also doubled as a Panic Room at some point, hopefully it would. Her eyes widened at her partner's suggestion and she turned to him, her expression a mixture of amusement, befuddlement, and annoyance. "You really know how to impress a girl don't you?"

Pete smiled sheepishly. "Just a suggestion, unless of course we don't make it outta here…" He quickly piped down spying that her neck was now slightly scrunched, an annoyed expression on her face. "Kidding, kidding."

Leaning against the wall the duo sighed. They froze when they saw the faintest hint of their breath in the air.

"You can't be serious." Myka grimaced.

"Power surge from the Juke must have turned freezer back on." Pete remarked sharing her pained expression.

"Great, first we risk getting taken out by a possessed lynch mob, and now it's either that or I freeze to death." Wrapping her jacket tightly around her Myka shivered.

"They sure as Hell didn't say anything about this when we joined the Secret Service."

Pulling her jacket collar around her neck, Myka shivered again as she listened to the incessant pounding outside the door. She nearly jumped when Pete wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Pete!"

"Chillout will ya. Okay bad analogy, just trying to keep us from both freezing to death."

"Just an excuse to get your arms around me huh?" She chuckled half heartedly. "We make it outta this, Artie owes us big-time, a week, no two weeks off."

Pete nodded. "Yeah, that and a real vacation."

Myka closed her eyes and tried to not pay attention to the increased pounding and banging noises on the doors outside. "Preferably someplace warm."

She shivered again, "Wish that stupid machine would actually work."

Pete sighed to himself, an arm around Myka. How would it be to go out this way? Frozen to death inside an abandoned freezer. Who knew when or if their bodies would be discovered. That was, of course, provided that the zombies did not get to them first. This was not how he saw himself going out when he joined the Secret Service.

"When I said chill out, I did not mean it literally, you know," said Pete suddenly. "I just wish this place was still running. Even with the jukebox on the fritz, at least we would have beer here."

"I thought you don't drink." Myka stated confusedly.

"Good a time as any to start again now isn't it?" Pete remarked.

Wrapping an arm around his waist Myka's frame shook, wondering if the room was growing colder with each passing minute. She dared not look up at Pete, her expression embarrassed as her fingers brushed across his stomach stopping as her hand came to rest on an unfamiliar shape. Myka blushed, feeling very awkward suddenly.

"That better be your sidearm." Myka started.

"It's my SIG I swear." He replied trying not to laugh, and smiled when Myka in turn actually chuckled at the absurdity of the situation before she let her hand rest on the outside of his hip.

"Any place in particular you'd go to if Artie actually let us have an actual vacation, provided we survive this?" Myka asked, attempting to take their minds off the threat that still lingered outside the freezer.

"Got me," said Pete as he stared at his breath, his hand gently rubbing Myka's back as he held her in an attempt to generate warmth. "Someplace warmer than this. Maybe Australia? Never been there and it's not cliché like Hawaii."

He thought that the line of conversation was fairly idle at first. Upon further reflection, however, he decided it couldn't hurt to think about warm places. Maybe the mind will catch on and they would not notice the ice starting to form on the shelves around them.

"Ever seen Crocodile Dundee?" started Pete. "Great movie. It's still a romance movie, but it's different. It's from a guy's perspective. Still doesn't kill the coolness though. Anyway, he lived in the Outback there. It was sunny. Hot. A few snakes though."

Pete let the warm and hot words float out there in the air for a while. Let them sink in.

"I think I'd rather deal with the snakes though," chuckled Pete. "What about you? Where would you go?"

"Australia huh?" Myka replied. "Don't know if I'd wanna deal with snakes though. Indiana Jones had to deal with his fill of the damned things." She chuckled. "Hell and he's been in worse than this." Myka rested her head on Pete's shoulder as she continued, "If I had to pick, right about now Mexico's looking pretty good. Sand, surf, real Tequila."

Pete nodded laughing at the last remark.

"Plenty sandstorms too I'm sure." He added. "Sunburn over frostbite is looking good right about now."

Myka closed her eyes, trying to focus on the imagery created by her words and the not the ice chest they were likely trapped in. Instead she drank in her words imagining a place filled with endless miles of sand and scorching heat and the sun blazing down upon her back.

"Even the Amazon Rainforest isn't looking so bad right about now." She added as an afterthought, thinking of warm and humid jungles rich with vegetation.

"Even more snakes." Pete quipped laughing. "Still..."

They sat there for a while talking about different warm and tropical places they would like to visit. Suddenly it occurred to Pete that he had not heard any crashing against the door since around when the freezer had turned on. He sat still, closed his eyes and listened. What was wrong with this picture?

"Do you hear that?" asked Pete.

"Hear what?" returned Myka.

"Exactly," started Pete. "No sounds. No banging against the door. In fact, I almost thought I heard music."

Myka closed her eyes and listened. At first all she heard was the low whir of the freezer working. Then she heard what Pete was talking about. It was very, very low but distinct. It was music. The jukebox must have come on.

Pete checked his watch using his flashlight. It was nearly three in the morning. They had been out nearly all night long. They had forgotten about the time when they were searching. They had found the girl around half past eight the previous night. With the music, the running and so on, time had slipped away from them.

Myka looked at Pete. Pete shrugged, drawing his SIG.

"Hang back, I'll take a look."

Myka grabbed Pete's arm and stood up. "I'm going with you." She huffed before adding. "I have had enough of sitting in here freezing."

Reaching for her Tesla, Myka withdrew the weapon and followed her partner out who agreed begrudgingly. Weapons at the ready the duo stepped back out towards the bar cautiously, the sounds of the music growing louder as they did. The closer they got they spied several shapes passed out on the floor.

Myka looked back at Pete who looked at the now working Jukebox. He ran over to the machine.

"Basin St. Boogie."

A very old jazz tune. If Pete's guess was correct, possibly the last song LaRue heard before she died. The pair looked at the still unmoving shapes. Pete nudged one with the toe of his shoe.

"They're out cold."

Myka looked back at her partner and then towards the exit. "Let's get outta here before they decide to get back up."

***


	8. Chapter 8

Pete nodded and the pair made their way across the floor and out the front door. Checking the street, the pair made a beeline for their hotel. Their bodies ached and were sluggish with the cold. Pete was definitely looking forward to a hot shower when he got back. Some hot tea from room service as well. Hot everything.

The pair finally made their way back to the hotel and stumbled in looking very disheveled. The desk clerk raised his eyebrow briefly before returning to his novel. Saying nothing, he set their key on the counter.

Pete and Myka heaved a sigh as they stepped back inside their hotel room, their emotions ranging from tired, freezing, and yet hopeful. Pete glanced at Myka who still held her hands to her arms attempting to get warm, his actions mirroring hers. Both of them locked gazes before looking back in the direction of the bathroom, and without warning both took off in a full-blown run.

Pete managed to get ahead of Myka nearly beating her into the bathroom but she caught him off guard and managed to duck under his larger frame as she attempted to sneak through the doorframe. Unfortunately that was as far either got and they fell to the floor tangled in a heap of limbs, Myka having tripped up Pete and she having fallen on top of him. Despite the earlier events, neither could help burst out laughing.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Pete and Myka bumped heads as she carefully pushed herself up off the ground with her hands, and Pete groaned as he held his chin before flashing an impish grin Myka's way. "Ya know we can always conserve hot water by…"

Myka glared daggers at her partner, her own forehead hurting. "Pete…" She started in a warning tone. He responded in turn by holding up his hands defensively, using one to brush a strand of hair away that had fallen into her eyes. "I was only joking, just save me some hot water kay?" He added in jest towards his last remark.

Blushing Myka stood up, mumbling a thanks as she did before she stepped inside the bathroom as Pete got up. Once she was inside she closed the door and Pete looked around the room, still cold from having been holed up in a freezer several hours earlier.

Looking around for a means to get warm his eyes fell on the coffee pot and a basket of coffee packets and tea packets placed nearby. Stepping near the coffee pot, Pete sighed as he lifted up the packets noting there was not a single packet of decaf coffee or tea for that matter amongst the bunch. Dammit. His eyes lit up at the sight of hot cocoa packets and figured why the Hell not and he set about to prepping the mixes. By the time he had finished, Myka had exited the bathroom wearing a black terrycloth bathrobe snugly wrapped around her form.

"Coffee at 3AM?" She remarked skeptically wondering if Pete had truly lost his marbles spying the steaming mug he held.

Pete smiled and offered the mug to his partner. "It's hot chocolate, you save me some hot water I hope?" He asked teasingly.

Myka nodded and took an appreciative sip of the drink, not really giving a damn that she was indulging in a sweet treat at such a late hour. He smiled and stepped past her retreating to the bathroom.

Several minutes later he stepped out of the bathroom changed and feeling much better than he had earlier, though a slight chill still lingered in his bones. Their luck they'd both be sick with a cold come morning. Pete spied Myka sitting in her pajamas sitting perched on the edge of her bed a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, trembling visibly.

"We're gonna be sicker than dogs come morning, I just know it. Freezing." As if to emphasize her statement Myka sneezed and Pete sat next to her grabbing his mug of hot chocolate and took a long sip.

"At least we know the theory about Jazz neutralizing the effects of the artifact was correct."

Myka nodded. "Yeah now we just have to find the girl."

"Again." The pair replied in unison forlornly.

Tiredly Myka yawned and held the blanket around her shoulders tighter. "Still feel cold even after the shower."

Pete got off the bed and went to the large atmosphere controller under the window of their room. It was definitely an older model. Opening the cover on the control panel, Pete turned on the heat and put it up to eighty degrees to get them started. He was still feeling a chill himself. He expected it though. No way you could sit in a freezer for three plus hours and not come away with some kind of illness.

He sneezed.

"I'll put on some more hot chocolate," said Pete as he waited for the heat to kick on.

Eventually the machine kicked on and started with a lukewarm breezer until it heated up. The room quickly became warm. Hopefully it would have the opposite effect and heat them to the core. Myka definitely looked like she needed it.

"That feels a lot better," Myka said.

"Unfortunately, I think room service is closed," Pete replied. "I could go for a plate of warm oatmeal cookies right now."

"Oh, Pete!"

"Sorry, I'm just really hungry."

Myka sighed and shook her head. A slight smile graced her lips.

She couldn't help but chuckle as Pete poured she and him another cup of hot chocolate.

"What?" He asked smiling, happy to see she was in better spirits. And also more importantly, that she had finally stopped shaking, it looked like the heat was helping them both.

Myka took a sip of her hot chocolate before replying, "Nothing I was just thinking what our room bill would look like after jacking up the heat."

"Did you see the clerk at the desk?" Pete asked unable to keep from sniggering, "Guy must have thought we lost our minds."

"I imagine he's seen stranger though." She remarked as she laughed with him and set the blanket down next to them on the bed.

"Oh? Something you're not telling me Myka Bering?" He asked conspiratorially, intrigued by the sudden turn in conversation.

Lowering her head Myka blushed, grateful she could blame it on the heat and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear before she looked back at her partner, hoping he wouldn't catch on to her change in expression. "Nothing to tell, and even if I did why would I tell you?" She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth.

"AHA! I knew it! C'mon spill." Pete asked eyes alight with curiosity.

Myka rolled her eyes as she fell back against the bed. "It's past Three o'clock in the morning Pete, I'm exhausted."

Pete grabbed a pillow and lay down, propping the pillow up under his head as he did and looked back at Myka so that they were both eyelevel. "And we're both wide awake, c'mon. I won't even laugh." He stated seriously.

Sighing Myka reached for a pillow of her own and looked back at her partner, not quite believing they were having this conversation, in the middle of the night no less. All things considered six months ago, they'd have likely been at each other's throats. Again. Even still Myka had to silently admit that she enjoyed Pete's company, even if he didn't act his age 90% of the time.

"If I tell you, then do you promise you'll let me sleep?"

"Promise," Pete answered sincerely. "So?" He asked gently.

Sleepily Myka yawned, the hot chocolate and the warmth of the room relaxing her body. Her eyes fluttered slightly as she spoke. "You know how I have an infinity tattoo on my ankle right?"

Pete nodded smiling slightly. "Yeah, I think it's kinda…" He cleared his throat quickly and piped down; figuring his additional comment might prompt an unwanted reaction from his partner.

"Pete?" She asked eyeing him warily.

"Cute?" He replied, closing his eyes as he cringed slightly, dreading a fist to the face. Myka only blushed in reply before she continued.

"Anyway, I nearly got a second tattoo."

"Nearly?" Pete asked.

"You know how people always say you wind up with an unwanted tattoo after a night of heavy drinking?" Pete nodded listening intently.

"I always told myself if I ever got some form of body art, it'd be something small and easy to cover up. Sometime after graduation, me and my sorority sisters went out to celebrate. Much celebrating." She remarked grimacing at the memory before she continued. "Anyway come morning, I woke up to find I had this wild Seth Gecko styled arm design running up my forearm, I freaked."

"What happened?" Pete asked his expression unreadable.

"My girlfriends played a prank on me, and had applied a very convincing temporary tattoo on my arm the night before when I fell asleep. Needless to say I was not amused the following morning."

She closed her eyes and yawned feeling ready to doze off. "Wasn't till an hour or two later and a visit to the drug store that I was able to finally get it off using nail polish remover." She mumbled.

Pete laughed and shook his head. He wished that he had been there to see that. Poor Myka. He still would have laughed though. Idly, Pete wondered at this turn of events. Back in D.C. they had been at each other all the time. Not exactly rivals per se, but opposing viewpoints. When they had to work together it was virtually guaranteed that they would get into an argument. Even if a third party was heading up the detail. There was always something.

Now, though, they were actually able to talk. He wondered what exactly was different about the situation. They were still the same. They still had opposing viewpoints every so often. It seemed that they were able to now blend their perspectives. Very odd. Maybe it was the lack of D.C.'s political machine and less pressure. They weren't exactly in the pressure cooker now.

There again, maybe it was working so closely together against such strange odds. Perhaps they just merely learned to coexist. Pete wondered what would happen to them if they went back to D.C. as regular Secret Service agents.

Pete smiled. "It was a funny story, Myka." Myka offered no reply, having fallen asleep moments after she had finished her story, her mind having drifted into a deep sleep.

Pete spoke softly again after his partner yielded no reply. "Myka?" He studied her expression for several moments and smiled, she had fallen asleep.

Moving over to his bed, Pete collapsed on top of the covers. He was beat like a drum. The heat continued to blast forth through the room but he didn't care. He was feeling warm and tired. He might actually get a good sleep, even if only from exhaustion.

"G'night Myka."

Myka shifted slightly as Pete got up and nuzzled into her pillow before she fell back asleep.

* * *

Roughly five hours later Myka awoke, the sunlight rousing her from her slumber. Rolling onto her side only caused the sun to further get into her eyes, so she begrudgingly sat up and cast a glance towards the clock. It was a little after 8 in the morning.

Glancing off to the side she spied Pete passed out cold. It had been a rough night last night for the both of them. Rising from her bed, Myka got up and reached for her notepad. She'd have to try and get a hold of the musician Jacques she had talked to two nights before; hopefully he could help them both ascertain the whereabouts of the girl.

It was then she noticed the room temperature, it was still rather hot for lack of better words. She sighed using the sleeve of her t-shirt to wipe away the sweat that had collected on her brow. The damned heating unit probably didn't shut off during the night. Moving towards the unit she adjusted the room temperature back to normal and heard Pete stir behind her as she moved back towards her bed to retrieve a clean change of clothing.

"The Hell happened? Did I fall asleep in a sauna?" He remarked sitting up as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Myka jerked a thumb at the heating unit. "Never shut off during the night, I thought they were supposed to be on timers?"

Pete sighed as he sat up. He felt like he was sitting in a swimming pool. Well, at least he was not chilled to the bone anymore. He stripped the sheets from their beds and set them in a hamper outside in the hallway. When he returned to the room, he found that Myka had already jumped into the shower.

Pete opened his bag and pulled out the clothing he was going to wear that day. They had survived last night mostly intact and he was glad. Hopefully they would not have to do that again. Pete moved aside the curtains and looked outside. No, it would not happen again. Last night was the final straw.

When Myka finished showering, Pete ducked into the bathroom to clean up, taking his clothes with him. He was showered and changed when the bathroom door opened a few minutes later. He slipped on his credentials and gun before sliding into a blazer. Slipping his shades on, Pete opened the door of their room.

"Let's go and bag us a necklace belt."

Myka spoke as she trailed alongside Pete, slipping on her shades as she did, her credentials, gun, and Tesla secured on her belt. "I called Jacques, the musician I spoke to at the club we encountered the girl at last night. Figured I'd find out if she's a regular performer there."

"He tell you anything?" Pete asked glancing over at Myka.

"Yeah he told me our girl performs there on weekends but on weeknights she performs at another club across town called _Le refuge de Songstress_." She nodded as she continued speaking.

Pete quirked an eyebrow, it never ceased to amaze him how Myka spoke French so fluidly, yet he barely managed to get a word out without brutalizing the language. Thank God she had his back in Paris. Looking back on it, he was lucky to have walked away from that mission with his head still attached. Never mind the mishap with the guillotine the ensuing flight home was another story.

"The Songtress' Refuge?" He asked looking over at her. "Fitting." He added cynically. "Jacques give you a name of our songbird?"

Myka nodded. "Yeah, Colette Armand. Turns out she's been skipping out on and off on rental bills for the equipment she's been borrowing for about three months now, which probably also explains why she bolted when she spotted my badge."

"Time to put a gilded cage around our songbird," said Pete.

* * *

The two agents made their way across New Orleans to the club mentioned by Jacques. _Le refuge de Songstress _was patterned after a mythical garden. The outside was decorated with vine-covered stone walls, flowers and so on. It was apparently an up and coming establishment in the New Orleans entertainment scene.

Walking inside, Pete saw that they motif continued. The interior was set up as a multi-tiered garden. The ceiling was lighted and painted to resemble a sky. Green carpet took the place of grass. Many plants and a few birdcages were dotted around. The furniture was patterned after an antebellum style. Gazebos were used to denote private tables. Perhaps the most striking thing was the indoor lake and fountain.

A man in a white suit approached the agents; a ledger-type book tucked under one arm.

"Your names please?" he asked, bringing up the ledger.

Pete showed his badge and credentials. "Special Agents Lattimer and Bering. We're here to see Colette Armand."

"I see," the man replied. "I shall have her summoned."

"Don't trouble yourself," said Pete. "If you could just point us in the right direction."

"I have not seen her for an hour or so," started the maître d'. "So she must be in the dressing room areas for the entertainers."

"Thank you," said Myka.

Pete and Myka made their way towards the rear of the restaurant, in the direction indicated. The doors were hidden behind a small hedgerow. Making their way inside, the two agents walked down a hallway with dressing rooms on either side. The doorways to each room was blocked by a curtain only. No doors.

Pete made his way down with Myka following. There were a number of voices to be heard as the various performers got ready. About halfway down the hall a woman mostly dressed as a Vegas showgirl came out of her dressing room right in front of Pete.

"Oh!" she started before a smile crept on her face. "Why, hello there."

"Hello!" said Myka as she pushed Pete further down the hall.

Pete smiled and gave a short wave to the woman before he turned back to business. A few more rooms down were made without incident. That was when Pete froze. He recognized a voice. He waited to hear it again and it came. He silently signaled to Myka which room their target was in. Myka responded with a nod and drew the Tesla.

"Colette Armand?" started Pete.

"Yes?" came a voice as the curtain moved aside.

Colette's eyes opened wide when she saw the agents. Myka started to say something when Colette shrieked. The curtain moved aside further and the big man who had hit Pete came out. The bodyguard started to wind up when Pete cut him short with a kick to the groin. The big man bent over and Pete struck him with an elbow to the top of his neck.

"That's for last night," said Pete.

Colette continued to cry as the two agents moved into the dressing room. Pete let Myka take point here. He was no good with this crying stuff.

Myka holstered her Tesla as Pete stood behind her snapping on a pair of purple gloves and she walked over to the girl and touched a hand to her shoulder. "Colette, we're not here to hurt you, we're here to help you."

The young woman looked up meekly at Myka as she continued to sob, "You lie, I know Jacques is on my back, besides I saw your badge last night."

Myka cast a glance at Pete who shrugged, grimacing as he did, not sure what to say. Nodding off to the side, Myka indicated for Pete to search the room while she continued to speak to Colette.

"Look, that necklace of yours, it's very valuable to us, and we know you're in trouble. If you'd be kind enough to give it to us, we'll give you a finder's fee." Myka spoke softly, her tone even. "Then I promise that we'll let you off the hook."

"You do?" Colette asked as she wiped at her eyes, studying Myka.

"Yes. Now will you tell us where you keep the necklace, please?" Myka asked.

The big man groaned as he moved to sit up. Colette looked at him briefly before pointing towards a small dresser in the room. Pete walked over to it.

"It's on a hook behind the mirror," said Colette as she went over and sat next to her friend.

Pete pulled his flashlight and checked behind the mirror. The necklace was indeed there, hanging on a hook. Moving the dresser back a few inches, Pete reached behind it and carefully snagged the necklace. Using his other hand, Pete reached inside his coat for a small metallic-foil looking bag and slipped the necklace inside, a visible spark of purple electricity coursed through the bag immediately after the necklace made contact with the plastic thus neutralizing the artifact, and Pete sealed the bag closed.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Pete signaled to Myka that they were good. He placed the bagged necklace inside his jacket pocket. Just then, the maître d' showed up, ledger under his arm.

"What is going on here?" he exclaimed. "If you're causing trouble here Ms. Armand, I assure you that you are out of this establishment!"

"Sir, take it easy," said Pete. "Ms. Armand is helping us with an investigation. We're taking her to file some paperwork and she'll be back in time to do her show. Thank you for your concern. We won't need you from here on out."

The maître d' looked at Pete and then slowly around the others in the group before turning on his heel and leaving in a huff.

"Wow, is that guy ever uptight," said Pete. "Anyway, who is up for a late breakfast or early lunch? I'm good for either."

Myka noticed instantly the visible change in Colette. The night before when they had chased her, for a moment she seemed almost possessed. Myka wondered if it had to do with the spirit of Madame LaRue. Artie would have to debrief them when they got back.

Now Colette, appeared more collected, calmer, not like a woman possessed by a vengeful spirit. The artifact now safely in their possession the group left the establishment, offering to get Colette and her friend lunch. It was the least they could do to repay them for procuring the artifact.


	9. Chapter 9

***

**EPILOGUE**

***

Pete had insisted on staying an extra day, making sure that they had resolved the case once and for all. As a way of celebrating, he opted for snow cones. This time they had managed to enjoy the frozen treat without incident and more importantly no machete wielding zombies. Safely back in The Badlands of South Dakota, the duo breathed a sigh of relief upon reentering the B&B and were greeted by Leena upon entry.

"Hey guys, how was New Orleans?" She asked smiling.

"Great atmosphere, great food…" Pete started.

"Tons of mosquitoes, humid weather…" Myka quickly interrupted.

"We survived didn't we?" Pete remarked.

"Barely, I need a shower. Where's Artie?" Myka asked dropping her bag down on the floor.

Leena simply smiled at the pair, and gestured out back. "Dining Room. Good to have you back guys."

Stepping away the pair made their way to the Dining Room and Myka plopped down into an empty chair as did Pete, Artie entered and smiled at the two.

"Hey you're back! Get the artifact?" he asked.

Pete proudly withdrew the bag from his jacket pocket.

"Snagged, bagged, and waitin' to be tagged."

Artie smiled taking the artifact from Pete. "Great I expect reports from you both by the end of the week, so…how did it go?"

"How did it go? How did it go?! We got locked inside a freezer!" Myka remarked sitting bolt upright.

Artie's eyebrow raised and he turned and looked at Pete. Pete smiled and shook his head.

"Let's just say that it was interesting and that you'll find our reports more entertaining than usual."

"Ok then," said Artie. "Good. Now to the debriefing. I had some time to uncover more facts about this particular little trinket you picked up. It did indeed belong to Ms. Madame Messina LaRue. She was, indeed, a patron of the arts. This referencing both the magical and musical."

Artie found himself a chair, setting down a plate of warm oatmeal cookies. Pete almost instantly reached towards the plate, taking three cookies. Leena came in with an iced pitcher of lemon tea and four glasses. She also took a seat. Artie poured himself a glass of tea and continued.

"The history behind this artifact starts with one Ms. Francesca de Croix, circa...1943," said Artie, readjusting his glasses. "She wore the necklace almost constantly until she was killed, by seventeen people."

"What?" said Pete, sitting up.

"Yes, seventeen people," said Artie. "Quite a mob, no?"

"A mob...," commented Myka, thinking.

"Yes," said Artie. "When asked after their arrest, these people had no idea why they had killed her. However, they all said that they felt lingering wisps of fear and hatred. They also did not recognize the woman they had killed, saying that she appeared 'different'."

"So, it does affect the wearer!" said Myka. "I told you that Colette was different, Pete!"

"I believed you," Pete replied.

"If you two are finished?" asked Artie, again adjusting his glasses. "In another incident, this one circa 1971, a Ms. Della Trent had a nearly similar experience. She was spared an ugly death, unknown to her at the time, by collapsing in exhaustion in front of a jazz club."

"Wow," said Pete. "Lucky break!"

"Yes, very lucky," said Artie as he sipped his tea. "There are a number of other incidents as the necklace appeared throughout the country. I'll make them available to you if you're curious. Anyway, other than me needing your reports, good job team."

Artie began to collect his things and stood up from the table, "Once you've both turned in your reports, feel free to take the rest of the week off, you've earned it."

"Are you serious?" Myka asked as though in disbelief.

"Yes you both looked stressed beyond belief, and the last thing I want is either of you bringing that negativity with you inside the Warehouse. I've got enough on my mind as it is, remember though I want those reports come the weekend!" That said, Artie packed up his bag and left the two agents alone.

Myka sighed leaning back in the chair. "Thank God, a moment of peace and…" She nearly jumped from the chair as Claudia came running into the Dining Room Area,

"HEEY! Leena told me you guys were back, how was N'awlins?" Claudia knelt down next to Pete and held out her hands. "C'mon homeboy, cough up the goods."

Pete fished a t-shirt out of his bag and proceeded to hand it to Claudia but he quickly pulled his hand away and laughed pointing at her as he did. "HA! Psyche!"

"Dude that's not funny, c'mon give it up!" Claudia remarked as she reached around Pete as he fought to keep the shirt from her grasp. Pete passed the shirt from one hand to the other and back again as though he was a basketball player, fighting to keep the ball away from his opponent. Myka only shook her head a slight smile gracing her lips as she stood watching the two squabble with one another.

"I'm going upstairs to get settled, children." She chided, turning away from the table as she did. Pete turned, his gaze following Myka as he called out.

"Who, us?" He remarked, at that precise moment Claudia tickled his ribs and he dropped the shirt, Claudia moving fast quickly claimed her prize and took off.

"HA! Sucker!" Somewhere down the hall he heard her call out, "Hey! Where's my beads?!"

Pete and Myka walked down the hall, Myka stopping to retrieve her bag before she headed upstairs, Pete proceeded to do likewise but was stopped by Claudia who pouted and held out her hand in a hand it over gesture. Reaching into his bag Pete handed Claudia over a handful of beaded necklaces, which he had picked up at a souvenir shop prior to them leaving New Orleans. Claudia grinned and took off, throwing Pete a rock on gesture before doing so.

Marching upstairs Myka retreated to the bathroom and Pete to his bedroom. Several minutes later Myka emerged changed into a worn pair of black sweatpants and a dark blue t-shirt, her curly hair pulled behind her head in a low ponytail, she passed by Pete's room as she proceeded to step into her bedroom and she halted, back stepping as she spied him sitting Indian style on his bed in intense thought, surrounded by DVD cases. Like her he had also changed for bed, his attire consisting of a pair of charcoal grey cutoff sweats, a well-worn North Canton Wrestling t-shirt, and a dark green hoodie.

"Dare I ask what you are doing?" She asked raising an eyebrow mildly amused by her partner's behavior.

"Trying to decide what I want to watch," said Pete without looking up at her. "Being stuck in that freezer as we were got me thinking."

Myka turned her gaze from Pete to the collection of DVD cases on the bed. "What do you have?"

"Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead, Day of the Dead, Diary of the Dead," started Pete. 'And Against the Dark. That one's a Steven Seagal flick. Meant to watch it before now. Been busy."

"Who is Steven Seagal?" asked Myka.

Pete turned his gaze from his DVDs to Myka, his mouth open in disbelief. "Myka, I am afraid it is time to educate you. We cannot let this lapse of entertainment education pass."

Pete picked up Against the Dark, replacing the others on the shelf. He went through and grabbed another stack of DVDs. Myka's eyes widened at the sheer number.

"We'll start with 'Above the Law'."

Pete took Myka's arm as they walked back downstairs to the living room, talking about the actor and his movies. Myka felt a sudden wave of regret washing over her at having stopped in Pete's room. Then again, she had the rest of the week to recover.

"You'll love it!" said Pete.

**THE END**

Author(s) Notes: Whether or not Myka has actually heard of Steven Seagal is probably up for debate given the amount of movies he's done, but in all honesty it can't be that farfetched right? I mean she's practically a bookworm. XD Pete on the other hand...either way hope all of you enjoyed our Fic, and if made it this far, thanks a bunch for reading! :D

~Christie

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